Survivor
by Deathslash
Summary: The UK has become a dictatorship. With rebels running left, right and centre, how to control the population? Well, how about taking a class of students every few months, and making an example of them? It's a game with everything to play for...
1. Prologue: Hands of Time

**Prologue**

**January 15****th**** 16:43**

Maxine McKenzie shifted in her front row seat, gazing tiredly out of the window into the darkness. There was no moon out, but the stars were perfectly visible with the absence of synthetic light in the mountains of the Scottish highlands. Well, fairly far north anyway. Maxine wasn't a person who was easily exhausted- she doubted that would impress the parents of the 300-ish students she taught, not that their opinions mattered much these days- but nonetheless, she had been travelling for at least nine hours now, with only two very brief service station breaks. Lethargic, that's what she was. _Should a P.E instructor spend so much time on her arse? No_.

Sadly, some of the forty-two weren't quite so content to keep themselves quiet. Many were fuelled, no doubt, by half a dozen or so cans of Red Bull- a rare luxury that had not been prohibited or rationed- that had slipped down their throats. Some still had a mental age at which Red Bull was hardcore, bless them.

'Steve, put your kechs back on, tosser!'

'It's bloody boiling!'

'In January?!'

'Do I give a fu- damn?' He'd glimpsed Ms. McKenzie's open eyes in the reflection of the window.

As the only member of staff on the bus, Maxine felt it her duty to acknowledge this rowdy behaviour, which she did merely by eyeballing Steven Wilkinson (Boy #21) half-heartedly. He grinned back at her, but dropped his voice by about an octave. Maxine was surprised he bothered. With the amount of sugar and caffeine inside him, given his already… _self-confident_ nature, he may well have asked Maxine whether she wanted to join him a few rows back. In her mid-thirties, but with a toned body and a freckled, fun-loving face, Maxine McKenzie was regarded as something of a 'MILF' (though she'd never had children, and never would) by much of the 21 testosterone-charged boys in the vehicle. She was too easy-going to be offended by it, but besides, what could she do?

At the moment, she was more concerned about the other adult on the bus. The bus driver, an elderly man named Max (he had felt much merriment when Maxine had instructed him to call her 'Max' rather than 'Ms. McKenzie') had been chatting to her animatedly the whole journey. He was about eighty years old, and drove at a snail's pace (hence the ludicrously long-winded journey) and tried to avoid the main roads, to Maxine's annoyance. Anyway, Maxine had wound him up and let him go. His family, his holidays, the weather, the war- Maxine could have written his biography.

'I just love driving. Always have. Gives me a chance to meet young lasses like yourself' he'd joked, winking at her. Maxine smiled back. He was just about old enough to get away with it. That and talking endlessly. Now, however, he had fallen silent. _I hope that's all it is_.

'Ahem, Max, are you OK?'

He jolted back slightly. Nerves. 'We- I've got to switch with another driver. A few miles back. I-I'm sorry, pet, I just forgot.'

'Who told you this?' _Is he imagining things?_

'I can't remember his name, but it was only yesterday. Plans haven't changed.'

_Great. Just what I need. Wait, maybe we can get there quicker now, with a different driver._ 'It's fine' she reassured him. 'Just turn around, and we'll go back the way we came'.

'I forgot where the turning was, too'.

_What the hell is this guy still doing on the road?_ 'Well… stop and we'll take a look at the map.'

'What's going on?' enquired a particularly child-like girl near the front

'Are we lost?' This was a one of Steve's mates, Sebastian Hall (Boy #7)

'Shit,' muttered a female voice.

'Be quiet!' Maxine snapped. 'We're not lost. Anyway, what are you, ten years old or Year 10?' Maxine was overreacting. She wasn't patient by nature.

'I got a call from Louise in 10E,' piped up the same young-looking girl. 'They arrived in Fort William over an hour ago!'

She was referring to another of the three year 10 classes participating in the annual school trip. Each year the venue changed, (this year, a long weekend at an outdoors adventure centre was planned) but each class always travelled in a different bus, as school policy dictated. The country demanded order, and nowhere was this more important than in education.

Maxine turned back to their distressed driver, who was surveying the map. They were in the middle of nowhere, but the road could be identified. Maxine eventually demanded that Max contact the company and give them their location. The old man quailed slightly. 'Can't we just turn round and look for them?'

'NO!!' Maxine was losing her composure. For God's sake, those guys, whoever the hell they were, could be back in England. All she had was Max's word. 'Gimme the phone and the number. Now. They're going to come to us.'

**17:26**

When Max had said 'a few miles back', he hadn't been kidding. Within ten minutes of Maxine's rather brief and assertive conversation with an unnamed man, an almost empty coach pulled up in front of the bus. The P.E. teacher climbed wearily down the steps and spoke briefly with a two men; one was middle-aged and the other couldn't have been more than about twenty.

They all shook hands.

'We're new employees of Classic Coaches. This route coincided with one that we were doing. We thought Max might not be up to the whole route.' This was the younger one who spoke, in a whisper (though it wasn't quite low enough, 'ageist bugger' was audible from Max's direction).

'Well then, why didn't you arrange an earlier meeting point?' Maxine had seen on the map that they were less than an hour away from their destination.

'Like he said,' the older man replied sharply, 'we were in the area. We run a tight schedule. Can we proceed?' Apparently he was the one continuing the journey. He had steel grey hair, and look of ferocity in his eyes. Maxine was, uncharacteristically, quite intimidated.

She bade farewell to Max (whom she regretted being so sharp with) and the young driver (whose name she didn't learn), both of whom insisted on kissing her on the cheek. Maxine boarded the bus to cries of:

'Cradle-snatcher!'

'Toygirl!'

'Paedo!'

It was the usual suspects: Steve, Sebastian, and one of the female half of the group Mia Selwyn (Girl #15).

Maxine slumped back into her seat, not responding. The engine started up, and they were on their way once again. Their new driver wasn't the type for conversation, which was lucky, given that Maxine hadn't gotten a good impression of him and wouldn't speak to him anyway.

_Speaking…_

The noise from behind her had almost completely subsided. Maxine's thoughts had been a million miles away, so she hadn't noticed until now, roughly ten minutes since the bus had resumed its journey. Suspicious, she craned her neck back and saw that most had closed eyes. The others were looking dozy (though Sebastian Hall looked no different than usual).

_Huh… figures… it's been a long day- !!!_

Suddenly a lot of things made sense to Maxine. She recalled the look on Max's face whenever he mentioned his 'co-workers'. He'd been scared and apprehensive. Then again when those (still nameless) men had arrived. She'd been so stupid. He'd never met them before. He was an old man, who wouldn't ask many questions- no, it couldn't be- why would they…? Maxine's innards twisted in fear. The coach… had it been waiting, surely it would have followed the bus. _They'd gotten to us too quickly…_

_No! This can't be happening to me! _

But it was.

Survivor. Of Course.

_I'll call for… for help._

No help would come, even if her reflexes had been working to enough capacity to dial a phone, and speak to someone. This was perfectly legal. Maxine could just about stand up. The gas- _gas? No- this isn't happening so there can't be gas- right? - _which was no doubt circulating her lungs and blood vessels hadn't completely taken over yet. Maxine staggered in her trainers, clutching the rail.

_He won't be wearing a mask_

He was. Maxine managed to move to get a profile view of the driver before he noticed her standing there.

_Check your mirrors, prick._

Maxine's hazy view of him registered shock, but it only lasted a moment. Maxine tried to grab his arm but she just couldn't. There was nothing she could have done.

_So… what happens to me now?_

The bus was coming up to a sharp corner, and they were driving through the hills. Colin West (for that was his name) - low level government official, reached down below the dashboard and pushed a button, and the double doors flew wide open. Maxine craned her head slightly, and felt a hand on her ribs. Her short, brown hair flew wildly about her pretty face. Less than two seconds later that same face smashed into a slab of cement as Maxine narrowly scraped the side of the road. A whiff of heather caught her nose, as she tumbled through the fauna.

That was all.

The bus trundled along the road- the same road, though it had gone unnoticed- that Old Max had been driving on. The one which definitely did not lead to Fort William. The bus rounded the corner, though Maxine McKenzie definitely did not watch it go.

**18:07**

Colin West marched, soldier-like, down the gangway, not pausing once to back look at the bus of 42 sleeping children, still just about visible on the small ferry. The Port of Mallaig was a fairly small place and nobody else was actually crossing to the same island. Therefore it was easy for West to explain to the crew that the students would be collected after they crossed. A brief flash of his government I.D. card, and that was all they needed to know.

He'd cut it close; the whole exercise of infiltrating Classic Coaches itself had not been fruitless. After all, though it was unwise to trust anyone in the United Kindom in the current, fascist state it was in now, trust was still needed to an extent. Had a military bus pulled up outside St. Mary's Secondary School almost half a day ago, there's no way the kids would have gone willingly. Firearms, of course, could solve this eventuality, but these kids were_.... special_, and were needed alive, for what awaited them on the Isle of Kilbride. Since West and his- er- assistant Jack Willingham, had watched that senile Max drive on, and forget to turn in, they figured it wouldn't matter if they let him continue on, only to reach the Port instead of Fort William. Then, theoretically, West and Willingham would arrive out of nowhere and take over. Unfortunately it hadn't quite worked out like that. But it had gone OK in the end. West just hated kids, even if they were asleep.

This brought him back to that woman...Maxine. His face flushed with hatred. He should have seen the bitch in his rear view mirror, parked up, and waited for the gas to do its magic. Instead, he'd panicked and now she was probably dead, lying remote. It was her own fault. The showrunners of _Survivor _usually let the teachers go, provided that they didn't discover the location of the game. _If she'd just sat tight, then she'd be snoozing on the coach as I took her... wherever I'd been ordered to. _As it was, he'd phoned ahead. His superiors weren't happy.

West wasn't proud of his job, though nor was he ashamed. The lack of pride stemmed from the fact that he hadn't had a promotion (taking tonight's balls-up into account, maybe there was a reason), despite being forty-five years old, and he'd been with the govenment at the time the United Kingdom had first become a dictatorship.

That was thirty years ago, and precious little had changed. West sometimes wondered what would have happened to the country if Margaret Thatcher hadn't been assassinated as she first stepped into Number 10. Everyone did. The country had gone into chaos and, seemingly overnight, the present State had formed, though that had happened more gradually. Some remembered a time of choice, of free speech and of laughter. West remembered only the chaos, the delinquents, and the crime_. 'Did you have a tough childhood' they all joked. If only they knew. _

West had to call for a taxi. This was one of the privileges which came with working for the government. _Free cab rides at any time; all I need is this I.D. card_ he thought, stroking his picture slightly with gnarled hands. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cigarette, then lit it and brought it to his lips. He looked out to sea as the ship disembarked.

_Beautiful place to end everything, the Isle of Kilbride_


	2. Prologue: Atmosphere

**Prologue: Atmosphere**

**January 15****th**** 22:46**

**Survivor **

**Game #67, Scheduled Beginning: 0:00 16****th**** January 2010**

**St. Mary's Secondary School, Class 10M **

**Student List/ Classified**

**Boys**

#1 Tyson Baxter

#2 Zachary Black

#3 Jonathan Cray

#4 Leo Davison

#5 Christopher Day

#6 Luciano Estevez

#7 Sebastian Hall

#8 Callum Harrison

#9 Harry Hayes

#10 Michael Hill

#11 Joshua Johnson

#12 Kirandeep Khan

#13 Andrew King

#14 Carl Mitchell

#15 Peter Mortimer

#16 Daniel Oliver

#17 Samuel Rothschild

#18 Bryan Smith

#19 Ewan Stone

#20 Aidan White

#21 Steven Wilkinson

**Girls**

#1 Michelle Ashanti

#2 Cassandra Carpenter

#3 Janine Carter

#4 Lucy Edmonton

#5 Nina Fox

#6 Anne-Marie Hunt

#7 Kimberley Jones

#8 Lauren Lucas

#9 Violet MacDonald

#10 Nicole Nicholson

#11 Belle Orbison

#12 Stacey Phillips

#13 Elizabeth Pullman

#14 Jasmine Sanderson

#15 Mia Selwyn

#16 Francesca Simons

#17 Olivia Thompson

#18 Rachel Underwood

#19 Zoe Wakefield

#20 Serena Wells

#21 Megan Young

* * *

He glanced briefly at the paper. It was nothing particularly informative, but this was the only piece of information he had on front of him, on the desk. He'd read all of their profiles (and those of all the year 10 students of St. Mary's- which had been arranged, just in case of a sudden change of plan), ever since they had been chosen over two months ago. He knew all about them, like an instructor should, though they meant nothing to him. No different. His bored eyes glanced upwards over his spectacles.

All forty-two had been carefully placed, in rows of fourteen, columns of three, according to class number. Like in the pages of a book (the long, rectangular arrangement had been necessary, given that the room was wider than it was long). His own desk was stationed facing the class, parallel to Bryan Smith and Rachel Underwood (Boy and Girl #18). They were all out, though all snoring had ceased a few hours ago, apparently (the boat had only arrived an hour ago, and left knowing not to return with passengers anytime soon). Some were even mumbling, though gently, in their dreams. _Not long now. _The clock on the wall ticked ominously.

The man's eyes now turned to the woman standing stock still, in what might have been an imitation of the six soldiers stationed in the room with them. She was staring at the unfortunate children in front of her, having precious little else to do, now that the PowerPoint presentation was all set up, the OHP whirring above the room's occupant's heads. She remained completely unaffected by his gaze. Then her shoulders twitched, slightly.

'Huh? What's…?' It would have been completely inaudible in a regular classroom, but it was still unmistakably a conscious and clear, if incomplete question from a girl in the back row. She squinted, her eyes half open now. The rest would follow suit.

The woman strode over to her male companion, who rose from his seat.

_It's finally time, thank God._

* * *

**Author's note: **OK…a second prologue? Well, I just didn't want to write a 'student list' alone, or followed by a full chapter.

Yeah, nothing interesting here, but anyway I'd like to thank Kelley A publicly for being my first reviewer so in the meantime just bear with me, the first real chapter is on its way!


	3. Confusion

**January 15****th**** 22:52**

Anne-Marie Hunt (Girl #6) blinked, her vision quickly coming into focus. She felt a pang of embarrassment upon realising that she'd obviously nodded off and, moreover, she'd been so out of it that they hadn't been able to wake her up on the bus. _God! How utterly humil- hang on, they're all asleep…_

'Huh? What's…?'_ Are you all taking the piss outta me?!_

A few of Anne-Marie's classmates were now stirring. In the row in front, she could make out a yawn coming from Kirandeep Kahn (Boy #12), and he too raised his head, but glanced all around him, spotting Anne-Marie and raising an eyebrow. The groggy look in his eyes was very genuine. This was a pity, but Anne-Marie was just relieved at that instant._ Panic's over, it's not just me._

She now looked over to her right. Ah, there was Ms. McKenzie standing at the front… _Er, who's this?_ Whoever this woman was, it wasn't her form tutor.

The mysterious woman caught her eye and smiled at Anne-Marie who tried to smile back but for some reason could only manage an odd-looking grimace. Going by her smart red trouser suit, this lady had to be this place's manager. _Fort William Adventures, isn't that right?_

But could she be? On closer inspection she couldn't have been more than a few years older than Anne-Marie herself. So young that she must be an instructor, who just happened to be dressed for a board meeting. Yes.

Anne-Marie wasn't the brightest girl in the class, but eventually as she woke up and her self-described, average-at-very-best brain got into gear, she realised something was wrong. In fairness to her, she'd been the first one to awaken, and hadn't seen her fellow classmates' panic-stricken faces. Nonetheless, even looking at the time that the clock read, she still failed to truly acknowledge the alarming potential consequences that came with the fact that over five hours had passed since she had last been conscious. It definitely had been, as her playboy watch read the same time. She turned her neck ninety degrees from her sitting position, having now noticed Luciano Estevez (Boy #6) whispering to Carl Mitchell (Boy #14).

'Carl? Are you awake? What the fuck's going on?!'

'I- those are soldiers!' Carl jerked up, immediately alert. Several other classmates glanced around the room.

'What? No way…!' Luciano's enormous brown eyes suddenly looked even more rabbit-like. Similar to one at the wheels of a car, for instance, facing inevitable death.

_Soldiers? Well, now that he mentions it, that hunky co-ordinator does look rather militarian-is that the word?_

'I don't think we're at the centre' Anne-Marie helpfully noted. She was now chewing on a piece of her long plaited hair in worry.

'Well done, genius!'

Actually, while chewing, Anne-Marie was one of the first in the room to notice something else. She felt around her neck, and brushed against the cold, metal collar. Luciano's hand went to his own throat, too. _What the…_

The whispering around the room grew louder. People were now demanding answers from the tall, blonde woman at the front of the room. Her male companion unsurprisingly wasn't drawing nearly as much attention, and Anne-Marie had only just noticed his presence. The hired goons stationed around the nondescript room were obviously inferior to Mystery Blonde, so nobody was attempting to talk to them either.

Finally, Mystery Blonde broke the silence from the adults.

'I expect silence from all of you' she commanded coldly. She hadn't raised her voice at all, but immediately the students in front of her stopped talking. _She reminds me of Andrea_. In the back of her mind, Anne-Marie was thinking of her captivating older sister, of whom she was jealous and respectful of in equal measure. Her thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sound of a whimper from another girl. It was Mia Selwyn (Girl #15).

_Mia?! Crying?! _The whine could be heard from across the classroom. Anne-Marie tensed up, terrified of whether a cry counted as 'talking over someone' in Mystery Blonde's book. Apparently not, as the business-like associate merely looked at Mia, though not warningly, while Mystery Blonde continued talking.

'So, before I begin, does anyone have any questions?'

'Any at all?' This was the guy, speaking for the first time. 'It would make my job- instructor which is all you need to know me as- a little more interesting…at least at this stage.'

Silence, as per previous request.

'No? Good.' Mystery Blonde actually smirked at her companion, sending shivers down Anne-Marie's spine. 'Then we-'

'I have a question.'

Anne-Marie's aghast face whipped to her left. She twigged that they were all sitting in order of class number, since she was staring directly at someone who- Anne-Marie had an inferiority complex but even she knew- made her look like Albert Einstein.

* * *

**23:07**

Sebastian Hall (Boy #7) hadn't bothered to raise his hand. He cast his eyes across the room, feeling forty-nine pairs of eyes looking at him in apprehension. His classmates seemed to be afraid and _are they crying?? What the hell for?_

Sebastian looked at the woman, concentrating hard._ She only looks about seventeen! If I play my cards right on this trip…it's overnight after all!_

'I was just wondering, where's Mrs McKenzie? She's our tutor.'

The rest of the class looked simultaneously curious and amazed; no doubt because St Mary's dumbest had actually made a good point. They all looked from Sebastian to the still anonymous couple at the front, who glanced at each other. The bespectacled man smiled nastily.

'I'm afraid _Miss _McKenzie- at least learn her marital status- was forced to… go the journey.' Most of the class gasped and cried aloud, though some remained quiet, as though they still were in denial over what was so obviously happening to them

Sebastian, on the other hand, remained confused.

'So… we're meeting her at the park place?'

If he'd looked to his right, he may have understood the wide-eyed signal from Anne-Marie Hunt: _Shut the fuck up!_

The blonde woman smiled again. 'How utterly adorable,' she simpered. There was almost a hint of sincerity in her voice. But not quite.

_Did she just say I'm adorable?!_

'You're not so bad yourself, love' Sebastian grinned.

The class recoiled and gasped in horror. A flash of fury spread across the complimented woman's face. She'd evidently had enough. Sebastian was no stranger to people measuring him up, as though they couldn't quite tell whether he actually knew what he was saying. His stupidity was absolutely legendary, he was so unobservant, he'd only just realised there was something at his throat.

_Too late._

The blonde woman clicked her fingers for one primary reason, but she killed two birds with one stone in the process. Each of the six personnel suddenly reached into his pockets and pulled out two Glock 17 pistols, pointing them at various areas of the desk arrangement

Nobody screamed; they were all frozen to their seats.

Sebastian looked downwards in both shame and fear. _This is my fault they got the guns out. _

'Thi-this is _Survivor _isn't it?' he somehow managed to stammer out.

To his horror the blonde woman was striding right towards him, weaving through the desks. She reached out her hand, and Sebastian looked up, nonplussed.

SMACK!!! A noise similar to a fish being dashed across a rock echoed through the room. Sebastian's left cheek was completely red raw, and it began to burn, as Sebastian's teary face started to make the sensation even worse.

'Don't play games with me, and you'll call me Miss Rothman, by the way- just for future reference, _darling'._ She leaned back from Sebastian, and proceeded back to her desk at the front, waving her hand, causing the emotionless soldiers to lower their weapons.

'Yes! This is _Survivor_!' Miss Rothman shouted, addressing the whole class. Sebastian, one of forty-two, couldn't help but feel a sinking in his stomach, listening to confirmation of something he already knew.

'Now for the introduction, at long last,' The Instructor snapped. He motioned to the projection screen, while Miss Rothman pulled out a remote from her pocket, pressing a button. An image of a map appeared. The map showed what was unmistakably an island, roughly the shape of a very misshapen jelly bean.

'I'm sure you all know the basic rules of this game. There are forty-two of you, and only one survives. Do I need to tell any of you that that means that you'll have no choice but to kill or die?' The Instructor looked over at Sebastian, a cruel glint in his eye. Even Sebastian couldn't miss it, but he hardly cared right now

'Anyway, as you can all plainly see, we are on an island, deserted I might add. You were transported over in your sleep. The Isle of Kilbride has, for the duration of the game, been divided into one hundred and ninety-six equally sized zones, from A-01 to N-14. Of course, some of these zones won't affect you at all, since we're not about to activate zones completely covered by sea. Plus, the island is miles from another main landmass, so you wouldn't get very far if you were foolhardy enough to try to swim.'

The class waited quietly, horrified, but worse was yet to come.

'The collars you are all wearing serve as tracking devices, life sign monitors, and most importantly, explosive devices.'

Sebastian's hands flew to his collar as did those of many others.

'Don't try to pull them off,' Miss Rothman sighed. 'Or the bomb inside it will detonate-'.

_Huh? Doesn't that mean that the collars will break and we'll be able to take them off? No, probably not. Better stay quiet._

'- and take most of your neck with it'.

'Every six hours, I will announce which zones will go active. The rate will be one every two hours. They will remain that way for the rest of the game, so don't ever enter one after the time of activation is announced, or the collar will explode immediately. None of you want to die doing something so stupid- do you? The Instructor paused, as though expecting an answer. He didn't get one, and continued:

'Incidentally, the zone in which the church hall- where we are now- is located on the edge of E-04. This zone will go active fifteen minutes after the last of you leaves this building'

Sebastian's head was spinning. _What the hell am I going to do? I'll never escape this...please, I'm dreaming again._

'You will each be supplied with a bag in which you will find the following: A compass- they're easy to use, the needle points north; a map, a pen and pencil, a student list, water, bread, a watch, and a randomly assigned weapon…. I think that's everything.' The Instructor turned to Miss Rothman, who nodded.

'Also, there is a time limit. The island is only about five square miles in size, just to give you a sense of perspective, so two full days is more than sufficient. Those eagle-eyed students may have noticed that there are a few tiny islands –little more than rocks- dotted about the mainland. Feel free to explore them if you choose…' she trailed off, as one 'guard' was glancing pointedly at the clock.

'Yes, I think about now… bring out the bags, then.' Miss Rothman gestured to one guard to open one of the side doors -on which a rainbow was painted- which he did, and he pulled out a trolley which held a number of oversized backpacks, presumably forty-two.

It was coming up to midnight.

'So…' Miss Rothman began, 'it's time to get going.' There was a silence, the same question on everyone's minds:_ How exactly do we leave? Altogether, or what?_

' We usually determine the order of departure by randomly selecting a student and then having the rest follow in order of class number, but tonight I think that the first to leave can only be Girl #7, Kimberley Jones, don't you all agree? Kimberley, take a bag and leave by that door there,' she pointed to the only door in the room, towards the back. 'Then go down the stairs, first door on the right- you can't miss it. And for God's sake, don't linger in the building or you will be shot. I mean it.' Miss Rothman looked at the clock. The second hand ticked over the number twelve.

'Now,' she demanded. 'The next one, Boy #8 Callum Harrison, will leave in two minutes.'

Kimberley Jones picked up a bag, her tiny hands shaking but otherwise, Sebastian saw, she was fairly composed. She quickly left. _Will I be like that? God, why am I so stupid; she picked Kimberley first knowing I'd be last! _

Sebastian Hall succumbed to his misery and slowly began to cry again. He was by no means the only one.

**January 16****th**** 01:05**

And so it had gone on, for well over an hour, until only Sebastian and Anne-Marie Hunt were left sitting there. Miss Rothman and The Instructor were both smoking at the front of the class. The two students didn't dare look at each other. Another minute rolled by and Miss Rothman looked at Anne-Marie and inclined her head towards the door. Sebastian watched her leave, and just as she opened the door, she looked towards him and smiled sadly, just for an instant. Then she was gone.

'Well, well, look at this.' Miss Rothman took a drag of her cigarette and looked at Sebastian. 'Last one waiting. It must be awful for you.'

He made no response.

'I do hate the winter season, don't you?' The Instructor commented to nobody in particular. 'Always so much less activity amongst the students. Oh well.'

Sebastian couldn't stand it.

'Umm, can I go now?'_ I'm practically begging to step out onto a battlefield here!_

'You think I can't tell the time?' Miss Rothman snarled. 'Unlike you, I'm not stupid. You'll leave in… forty seconds. You'd better hope you get a good weapon. I'd love to say the best has been saved for last but I just don't know. Daddy's taught you how to use a gun, no doubt? Still I won't be placing bets on you…now, it's 01:08, get out of my sight.'

Sebastian leapt up out of his chair and grabbed the final backpack. He heard The Instructor and Miss Rothman snigger as he ran from the room in a frenzied panic. Sebastian bolted down the stairs, past a couple of soldiers- _what is the official name? - _who were every bit as wooden as those upstairs. Then he started bawling, his arrogance gone as he shot through the door and off into the night.

* * *

**01:09: Surviving Contestants: 42**


	4. Erosion

**January 16****th**** 01:08**

Roughly a mile away, while Sebastian Hall (Boy #7) was making his less-than-dignified exit from the church hall, Kimberley Jones (Girl #7) was literally lying low, crouching under a four-poster bed in the master bedroom of an abandoned farmhouse.

_Now…what's the plan?_

Kimberley had been the first to enter the game, and had taken advantage of this by making an immediate beeline for a building, knowing for a fact it would be empty. She'd guessed from the minute she woke up what was happening, and didn't need to wait for someone to pour her worried heart out into. She had started running; her back to the hall. According to the map that had been shown, the hall was almost right on the shore, and the sea could probably be seen from its side and rear windows. So Kimberley had known then that she was heading south. Naturally she'd seen nobody, and had arrived, panting, at this old, whitewashed house just before midnight. She'd had no trouble breaking in- a bathroom window on the ground floor was, _by heaven_, open. For the first time in her life, Kimberley felt glad to have the body of a person half her age, and squeezed in, albeit with difficulty and discomfort. She'd even felt like leaving the window open, just as a decoy. Nobody else could fit in, but would surely try to enter it, not thinking that anyone wouldn't close it.

_Then I could... no, let's not take any risks. _

Anyway, she intended to leave shortly. Having had time to rationalise her situation, Kimberley decided she needed to join up with a group. Although she had few actual good friends in her class, she didn't exactly look like a serial killer, therefore she'd be trusted. She'd run into someone sooner or later and it was better for her if they were potential allies. Particularly boys, who'd definitely not want to run scared from an innocent girl.

_Oh, right, _well-armed _innocent girl. _

She glanced at her weapon. Aside from being in this situation, she'd had an insane amount of luck tonight. The Heckler and Koch MP5 submachine gun had only just fit into her bag, and she had trouble holding it firmly, but come on! With this, Kimberley certainly felt secure, but an inevitable thought came to mind, not for the first time. She'd put her issued watch on, and thankfully it could be illuminated.

_Everyone'll have left. I could have been home free right now. Should I have…?_

No, that was ridiculous. Even if she'd had the guts to, Kimberley didn't see herself taking out forty-one people in a row. Not her friends for God's sake. Sure, Kimberley wanted to survive this, and was confident that, if she played her cards right, she'd at least have a good sporting chance. That brought Miss McKenzie- apparently she hadn't been married- to mind. Kimberley had never really liked her that much. McKenzie had always taken her job too seriously. Like most P.E. teachers, she believed the bullshit idea that hers was a proper subject, and had never just accepted that some people (like, unsurprisingly, Kimberley) weren't cut out for sport. She had once said, jokingly, that Kimberley could be a jockey- cat burglar, perhaps- but Kimberley didn't really see the funny side, and even now she felt embarrassed to think of everyone laughing at her. Still, Ms. McKenzie was _dead._ _She might have been defending the class._ Kimberley suddenly felt a little guilty for not particularly caring about her, but her thoughts led to:

_I want my classmates to die. Does that mean I don't deserve to survive? Shit, why is this happening?_

Real tears welled up, but she brushed them away and took her map and compass out of her bag. She'd also been provided with a torch, and under the bed she could use it without fear of it being seen. She looked at the southern half of the island. She needn't worry about danger zones for a while, but might as well check her position. She was irritated when she realised that the farmhouse was further east than she had thought, only a hundred or so metres from a small group of houses. The island was fairly mountainous overall, but this area was flatter, and thick with woodland. _Most people would come_ _here, dammit._

She decided to leave the house via the kitchen window, since the bathroom faced the open field. After she'd packed her things away and crawled from under the bed, she went to the bathroom (accidentally flushing the chain out of habit, though the thought of not doing so would have disgusted her anyway), then downstairs. She looked quickly for a knife of some sort but found none. Aside from the fitted units and pieces of furniture, the house had been cleared. _The occupants probably decided to move house completely. Understandable._

Placing the potted plant off the windowsill onto the floor, Kimberley climbed onto the sink opened the old-fashioned latch and leapt out into the frosty night. She was wearing thick-soled boots which weren't too impractical for exercise and made her look taller. All the same, they made a dull thud as Kimberley landed in the garden. She'd have to-

She froze.

* * *

**01:32**

He froze, having only just noticed a small figure standing crouched against the wall, looking straight at him, visible in the glare of the motion-sensitive light fixed up to the house. The girl was Kimberley Jones, the first person he'd seen, and he guessed she hadn't seen the light before she exited the house. Ewan Stone (Boy #19) stood on the other side of the picket fence, having been making his own way from the housing cluster and into the pine wood, which reached almost to the farmhouse. He held up his weapon, a bog-standard poker, and moved forward, wiping his eyes to get a better look at Kimberley.

'Kimberley? It's Ew-'

Big mistake. Kimberley spun her arm around and pulled something from inside the window.

_Fuck! Didn't see that!_

Ewan turned to run between the trees, but was too late.

RAT-TA-TA-TA-TA, Kimberley fired the machine gun.

One of the bullets grazed Ewan's well-toned upper right tricep causing him spin, just slightly, but enough to see Kimberley Jones falling to the ground. She'd taken poor aim as it was, and obviously hadn't prepared for the blowback.

_The gun's as big as she is for fuck's sake._

Most of the bullets had shot off into the air, missing Ewan completely. Ewan couldn't care about that now, however, as he could plainly see the gun sliding out of her grip.

He had prepared for this trip, and was wearing a brand new pair of Nike Airs on his feet. Of course it helped that he was a hell of a lot more athletic than Kimberley, who had rolled back over, steadying herself.

Ewan charged, and leapt over the fence and into the vegetable patch as Kimberley scrabbled for the gun on her knees. Ewan dived for it, seeing it lying in the earth (of course, nothing was growing at this time of year).

Ewan dropped the poker and grabbed the barrel.

Kimberley got hold of the handle.

The two locked eyes. _What's this, Kim? Wanna try to win a tug of war? Game over, psycho._

Kimberley, however, was smarter than that. Instead of pulling the gun, she merely put her ring finger onto the trigger and pulled it once again. Ewan couldn't quite see it from his angle, not in time.

RAT-TA-

A short burst of fire, and a part of Ewan's pelvis exploded, and well some of his stomach muscles ruptured. He lost his grip on the gun, and fell to the ground.

* * *

**01:34**

Kimberley Jones dropped down too, completely stunned. She loosened her grip of the gun and gasped for breath, sweating as she never had. About a minute had passed. She'd hit her head and scraped her arms when she'd fallen, but other than that she was fine. Then reality hit her.

_Fuck, what have I done?!_

She raised her head to look at Ewan, whom she'd fired at in a moment of rage and hatred. It wasn't self-defence, but she'd have to live with that.

She crawled over to Ewan, who was crying out in agony. Both students had tears running down their faces. She didn't have much time, and she'd already given away her location to the whole island.

'Ewan- I'm- I'm sorry'. Her words were of little comfort, she knew that- but it was something wasn't it? Kimberley kneeled over Ewan, whose face was contorted in pain, pathetically. She moved to the gun from the ground. It was freezing cold.

Ewan raised his own right arm, and very impressive it was too (as he often used to boast), even though it was bleeding.

_Wait, he's got-_

With more speed and skill than she would have thought possible, Ewan gripped the poker that had disappeared from view against the soil. Kimberley couldn't move in apprehension, just as if in a dream.

KRK. A low noise, now, that only two people heard, and Kimberley did hear it. She looked down at her chest, or rather, the brass pole sticking out of it, the badge on her sweatshirt turning black. Her heart was on fire for the briefest of milliseconds.

_The first one out…not…fair…_

* * *

**01:36**

Ewan Stone didn't last much longer than Kimberley Jones. Not long enough for anyone to come and find him. Kimberley's body fell over his wounds but she was so little it didn't make much difference to the level of pain he was experiencing.

_Bitch…evil bitch…vindictive- how could I be so stupid?_

Ewan died a much nastier, less deserving death than Kimberley had, his blood slowly spreading across the soil like some perverse fertiliser.

Two of the game's promising contestants were now out. The Instructor would not be pleased in the slightest.

* * *

**01: 40: Surviving Contestants: 40**


	5. Insufferable

**January 16****th**** 01:40**

After a difficult day of overseeing the arrival of Class 10M, and then briefing them on their task, The Instructor had retired to bed. He'd been helped by a couple of whiskeys and his daily review of the UK's forever stable economy. Although he slept on a fairly uncomfortable fold-out bed in what had previously been the island's nursery, his stupor remained uninterrupted by the activities of the trigger-happy Kimberley Jones. The Instructor was by now so used to these kinds of occurrences, he was rarely surprised and since everything that happened on the island was recorded, he could listen to it all later, perhaps during an uninteresting segment of the game.

This was not the case for Miss Rothman. She paced around in a low- ceilinged attic room, which was where all the Her 'subordinates' worked shifts, and had little choice in the amount of violence they heard, but Miss Rothman wanted to be there for all of it. This was only her second series of survivor (her first had been located somewhere in the Pennines), so it wasn't surprising that the game intrigued her far more than it did The Instructor. At the present moment she was in conversation with one of her lackeys. He wore a typical cadet khaki uniform over protective gear:

'Ewan Stone's just been eliminated'

'Is that so?' Miss Rothman was genuinely interested. 'Well, I suppose it was inevitable, given that he was fired at within such close range. He was in K-09, no?'

The professional thug- even he wasn't sure what his title was- replied, automatically 'Yes, Miss Rothman. He was in K-09 at the time of his death'.

'And Kimberley Jones?'

He stared, confused at the ice queen- or princess, she was barely a teenager- towering over him. 'Yes, Miss Rothman, unless she got up and moved, she's still-'

'Don't get smart with me! It doesn't suit you. This is why you'd be on the minimum wage in a capitalist society.'

It wasn't unusual to take shit from superiors, but this bitch was really starting to piss him off. Sure, he himself would have been called far worse in the past, but since he'd been groomed from childhood to be tough, and disregard personal feelings in favour of creating the perfect egalitarian society, he didn't usually care. Unless she was some kind of disguised dominatrix, Rothman couldn't crack the whip without hurting his pride.

'Anyway,' Rothman continued, getting no reaction. 'The computer will automatically record their time and location of death, getting no signal from the metal collar?'

_As I told you not ten minutes ago, 'Yes' you patronising-!_

'That's right, Miss Rothman'.

'Good. Now, could you bring up the student database? I want to know what Stone's weapon was'.

Her unfortunate companion did so, with a drag and click of the mouse. He'd just been viewing the main screen, which showed the whole island and every student's position. They were all pretty sparsely positioned by now.

'Ewan Stone… he drew the twenty-fourth bag… in which a steel and brass poker was contained.'

_Please leave me alone now, don't keep talking…_

'Well, I wonder how Jones died then. They were definitely in the same area, the two of them?'

He fought the urge to strangle her and sighed, 'Yes, Miss Rothman….'

'He must have finished her quickly as he went down. Impressive. Still, I expected better from Jones, with her weapon.'

Then, mercifully, she lit another cigarette and left the room in search of a midnight snack.

* * *

**02:56**

'Who do you think it is, the one with the machine gun?'

Jonathan Cray (Boy #3) had now asked that question, whichever way he phrased it, literally no less than a couple of dozen times in the hour that had passed since everyone on the island had heard the rattling of the MP5. To say that his friend and, in some ways, reluctant guide Leo Davison (Boy #4) was irritated would be something of an understatement.

'How could I possibly know? It could have been in self-defence, so it's not like it must have been Josh or one of his minions-'

'Never judge a book by its cover, Leo!' Jonathan couldn't be see clearly in the darkness, but Leo's eyes had adjusted, and from where he was standing, Jonathan looked borderline hysterical. Leo had heard about how repeating phrases was common when under pressure, but… it was still annoying.

_He's right, though, _Leo thought. _Under these circumstances, nothing can be taken for granted._ At this thought, he felt a bitter resentment of Jonathan's presence.

Leo sometimes felt sorry for him. It wasn't his fault that he had no endearing or positive traits whatsoever. However, this was through his choice. If he just accepted the fact that nobody likes him for whom he wanted to be, then maybe people would warm to him, a little.

Tears continued to flow down Jonathan's freckled face (this was winter, so in summer he almost looked like he had a tan). In fact, his eyes hadn't dried up since Leo had encountered him outside the hall. Neither would have joined the other if they'd been given a real option. The fact was, Jonathan would have liked to pair up with someone more popular than Leo, who could have protected him better. Unfortunately, when Jonathan had left, none of his 'friends' had waited for him, so Leo had had to do for a shoulder to cry on and as a confidante. The student who came between their departures, Janine Carter (Girl #3) wasn't really appropriate.

Jonathan sometimes talked to Leo at school about _Heroes _or _Doctor Who_, which was of course uncool. Leo himself certainly hadn't intended to be saddled with Jonathan, nor anyone else, actually. He'd left the hall to find Jonathan cowering next to a thick rose bush, begging for his help. Leo would definitely have declined the offer, but Jonathan's designated weapon, a butcher's knife, was rather superior to his own. When it was being practically waved in his face, it had been intimidating, but an entertaining prospect as future melee.

'Should we move position now?' Jonathan asked tentatively. Maybe he had noticed the look of contained frustration on Leo's face.

'Just a minute, I'm finishing this bread roll,' he replied, for all the world like someone on a picnic. Leo hadn't felt comfortable staying in the same place for too long, and had avoided the buildings. He didn't want to be in an enclosed area with Jonathan, who would probably stab him to death at some point. Leo knew that neither of them had any intention of waiting out the collars together.

At the beginning of the game, the two boys had moved gradually south from the hall, and had been resting in a thicket in zone J-07 near to where the gunfire was. It wasn't smart to stay there for too long in case the gunman happened across Leo and Jonathan, for them to become his/her next victims (Both boys were certain that someone was already dead).

After about half an hour of fast walking, they had arrived at thee northernmost tip of the Isle of Kilbride, pausing for 'nourishment' and water. The land was steep here, so a large amount of the island could be seen through the trees.

There had to be some way of ditching Jonathan. Short of killing him…but he'd need to have time to think about that.

'Okay, I think we should stay put for now,' Leo said, standing up again. 'Why keep moving so quickly? It'll only make us more likely to run into someone.'

Jonathan looked shifty. He _wanted_ to run into someone, in truth. The suspense that came with trekking non-stop meant that he just needed to talk to another person, to regain a bit of normality. This night had been horrifying yet surreal and creepy, too. He couldn't wait until morning came.

He looked to the left, down the slope in hopes of seeing a potential hiding place and suddenly jumped, startled.

'What is it?' Leo looked in the same direction as Jonathan. His insides churned. 'Oh…shit. Right, you stay- what are you doing?!'

Jonathan and Leo had seen a person's face in the window of an old shack, probably a former bicycle shed, further down the mountainside. It had to be Steven 'Steve' Wilkinson (Boy #21). Both Leo and Jonathan had experienced the 'face in the window' sensation, because they had been caught off-guard. The shack was too far away for Leo or Jonathan to be seen from it in the dark- plus they were hidden in the woodland, but Leo was fearful for another reason.

Jonathan had got up and was walking towards the shack! _Well, that makes sense; Steve is one member of Jonathan's popular posse. _

Leo ran in front of Jonathan, and spread his arms, blocking the way. Leo was weaker physically, but…

'It's Okay, Leo- I can trust him! He's a mate' Jonathan's tears had, funnily enough, all cleared up by now.

Leo knew what was going on. He was being replaced. By someone more charismatic, who probably had a decent weapon. Jonathan hadn't said 'we' can trust him, after all.

_But wait, isn't that what I want, to be rid of Jonathan? _

Well, yes it was, but Leo didn't like the idea of Jonathan giving away his presence. He also needed that knife, if he were to have any hope of surviving. Leo would never confess it outright, either, but what Jonathan was doing…it really hurt.

_After I risked my life for you, you bastard_

'L-Leo, are you alright?' The look on Leo's face was now quite worrying.

'Fine. You know what? You go on without me. Maybe Mia (Selwyn, Girl #15) and Nicole (Nicholson, Girl #10) are there, too. I don't care, to be honest. See you in Hell.' Leo turned to leave, slinging his daypack over his shoulder.

'Leo...I-'

_Just go away!_

Then a farfetched idea came to mind. Leo turned back to face Jonathan, his eyes gleaming in the starlight.

'If you truly trust me, Jonathan, then give me the knife, just for a second, before you go and meet up with Spaz- oh, I mean, Steve. Don't think I haven't noticed that you haven't put it down once, or even taken your eyes-'

'Fine! Here you are! I'm sorry!' Jonathan was crying again, but he held the knife out in his hand. Leo was taken aback, and even a little sympathetic, but he got hold of the knife.

Leo was quite shocked _Maybe he-_

'Can I have it back now, Leo?'

Then he got angry again.

Leo smiled, but he showed too many teeth for it to be real. 'Sure, here you are'. He held out the knife.

For a moment Leo paused, unsure, but then he steeled himself.

Instead of handing it to Jonathan, he lunged forward with the butcher's knife, straight at Jonathan's chest. There was a definite impact, but the cut was too shallow to be fatal.

Jonathan panted heavily, gagged, and fell back onto to rocky ground, his head against a tree root. He gaped at Leo in horror and shock, but Leo avoided the gaze and instead dropped to the forest floor, grabbing Jonathan's throat with his left hand, so that he couldn't breathe, and kneeling on his blood-stained chest so that he couldn't get up or squirm too much. He then brought the knife to Jonathan's jugular vein. He slashed hard, and the blood came gushing out like a fountain, Leo having to dive out of the way to avoid the torrent.

Jonathan was drained of his blood within seconds, and a great pool formed under his head. It would eventually congeal over his entire upper body. His eyes rolled back into his head.

Leo closed Jonathan's eyes, and then stood up, the twigs crunching beneath him. He zipped open his bag, and got out his own 'weapon'. It was a letter opener, with a goat's foot for a hilt.

_Can't stay here too long. _

He opened up Jonathan's bag and started going through the contents. As he did, he glanced down at the hut where he'd seen Steven Wilkinson. He was no longer at the window.

_Well, that narrows down the machine gun suspects by one. _

Whoever it was had surely left the area now. Leo abandoned the body, and headed back in the direction he had come.

* * *

**03:22: Surviving Contestants: 39**


	6. Disappointment

**January 16****th**** 04:04**

A south-westerly gale was howling through the forest and across the island. Since it was January, the temperature had been low anyway, though not unbearably so. The dense woodland offered some protection from the wind, but nobody who wasn't 'competing' in this season of _Survivor_ would be out in these conditions. This was the thinking of Anne-Marie Hunt (Girl #6), as she darted across the manmade path that ran around the forest's edge.

She hovered behind the tree, as though afraid to enter into open farmland. Ahead of her she could see a farmhouse, standing alone. The house was in darkness, so nobody-

_Oh yeah, turning the lights on would be a bit stupid._

Anne-Marie scanned the area, looking for any signs of life. There weren't any, so she turned back and beckoned to her friend, who was waiting a few metres behind, his head poking out from behind another conifer.

They made an unlikely pairing, and Anne-Marie was still questioning herself as to why she had hidden outside the hall in wait of his departure. Right now, there was next to no light, and Anne-Marie couldn't help the knot in her stomach that relaxed only when Sebastian Hall (Boy #7)'s round, scared face came fully into sight.

'Is it safe?' he asked.

'Well…I can't see anyone,' Anne-Marie replied, taking a second look.

'Why are we here again?'

'I- I don't know.'

Anne-Marie Hunt had something in common with the late Jonathan Cray (Boy #3). She just didn't want to be alone, waiting for something to happen.

_Which it will._

She and Sebastian were right to be frightened. Apart from being part of _Survivor _in itself, they were on the edge of zone K-09.

Anne-Marie, like every single student in class 10M, had heard the machine gun go off some time ago. She couldn't be sure, but she and Sebastian had been heading in the direction of it at the time, so it had probably been around here when it was fired. Neither of them was quite daft enough to continue on to their planned hideout, some estate on the map, and had instead settled for a while between some bushes. However, Anne-Marie figured that anyone would have left the area by now.

She wasn't used to taking the role of leader, yet she'd somehow naturally assumed the position. Sebastian was a lot more outgoing and, she thought, confident than her.

_Maybe it's because I'm the only one with a brain cell?_

That was a nice idea, but she couldn't think about that now. Sebastian moved next to her and withdrew his weapon.

Miss Rothman had been right when she'd joked about Sebastian's father (though Anne-Marie hadn't heard it). Sebastian's father was one of the very few people in the country to own a gun, and Sebastian had always shared his keen interest in firearms, so he knew by looking at the gun he was holding that it was made by Taurus, but he hadn't bothered to check beyond that. It didn't matter; the point was he could work it.

In fact, it had been Anne-Marie's weapon to begin with. She agreed to swap for Sebastian's gun (a revolver and Colt Python, apparently, but she didn't care) because Sebastian had told her it was easier to use. She hadn't objected, since she was relieved that they'd been so lucky.

_Good thing Sebastian tried to flirt with that blonde woman, Rotherham or whatever._

Anne-Marie started forward, but she felt Sebastian's hand on her shoulder.

'Do you really wanna, y'know, go to that house?'

Anne-Marie heard some fear in his voice, but she had a genuinely good feeling that they'd be fine…for now 'Yeah, we'll be okay- we've got the guns and-'

'No, I mean…you're a girl, and you said there's a dead body round here somewhere.' He looked down, slightly awkward.

Anne-Marie snorted. 'You're the one who's been crying, not me. We're probably going to die anyway, and if we do find someone… well, I'm stronger than you are'.

'What if it's one of our friends?' He looked horrified, like the image of a dead Steven Wilkinson (Boy #21) had flashed through his mind.

'That's why I wanted to come here. If your mate Steve's dead, maybe you'll stop asking me to look for him with you'. This was harsh, and she knew it.

Sebastian held his temper. 'At least I've _got_ friends,' he mumbled.

'Mine are in the other class!' Anne-Marie hissed. 'Anyway, I sometimes hang out with the other girls. Where is Steve anyway? I didn't see him outside the place we left. Probably doing it with his slutty girlfriend while you're worrying about him.'

Sebastian opened his mouth to respond, but Anne-Marie continued:

'Anyway, let's go, we're getting nowhere here.'

Sebastian needed Anne-Marie to stay with him, so he didn't argue with her. The two of them stepped out from the trees and sprinted across the cold, hard soil to the farmhouse, the wind biting at their faces. Anne-Marie's black plait hit Sebastian in the face. They arrived in about ten seconds. They stood with their backs to the wall.

Anne-Marie and Sebastian caught the smell immediately. It was like metal burning into their nostrils. There was no doubt: it was blood.

The two looked at each other. Anne-Marie wasn't feeling quite so ballsy now, and Sebastian looked like he was about to be sick. He closed his eyes.

'Can't we go?'

'Where? I want to know who it is. We'll have to break in.'

Sebastian was stood closer to the corner of the building than she was. He noticed lump in the earth out of the corner of his eye. He swallowed.

'Anne-Marie…'

'No! Will you-.' It was then that she saw what Sebastian was goggling at. 'Oh. Shit.' She put her hand to her mouth, and stepped around her companion, towards the lump. She was suddenly blinded by a light from behind, and she whipped round and aimed her gun instinctively, Sebastian doing the same. It was only an automatic light, lighting up something truly horrifying. The ground was covered in dried blood. They were even standing on some.

'Kimberley…'

It had to be her. Nobody else was nearly that small. And she wasn't alone. Sebastian held back, weeping, but Anne-Marie clambered over the fence and into the garden where the bodies lay. She shakily put her hands onto Kimberley's shoulders and turned her over, bringing her pretty but shocked face into view. She was lying on top of Ewan Stone, and he was most definitely dead too. His eyes looked up at the sky. From what Anne-Marie could see, he'd been shot around his lower body. Both bodies were pale, and felt stiff.

Kimberley, Anne-Marie only just noticed, ludicrously, had a metal handle sticking out of her chest.

'Anne-Marie…' Sebastian was kneeling beside her. 'Are you alright?'

'Yeah…,' she wiped away tears that she hadn't realised were there. She was never close to Ewan, but she'd liked Kimberley. Not as a good friend, not enough to trust her, but still.

_Not that that matters now._

'They must have killed each other. The gun's still here.'

Anne-Marie hadn't been thinking of that, and she only just spotted the large machine gun lying to her right.

'Let's take it.' She was composing herself, and Sebastian looked shocked.

'What?'

'Someone else'll take it if we don't. You take the pole out of Kim. We'll both take a bag.'

'I-I don't want to…'

'Fine! I'll do it!' Anne-Marie stood up and, to Sebastian's horror, put a foot on Kimberley's chest, reached down, and yanked the poker out of the body. Kimberley's head was pulled up from the ground, and dropped with a thud. The blood had already seeped out of her body.

Anne-Marie panted for breath, blood-stained poker in one hand, revolver in the other. Sebastian stared at her, but picked up the machine gun and slung Kimberley's bag over his shoulder (he had to put his other gun away due to the heavy weight of the MP5).

The two stood awhile, taking in the impact. Eventually, Anne-Marie broke the silence.

'We…let's go.' she relaxed her arms and picked up Ewan's daypack. She unzipped her own and slid the poker into it. 'The light'll tell people we're here.' Then she smiled at Sebastian. 'I'm sorry…about what I said about Steve. We'll find him.'

As Sebastian gawped at her nerve, Anne-Marie laughed gently.

'Don't do that, you look really gormless.'

* * *

**04:22**

As Anne-Marie and Sebastian cautiously moved away from the farmhouse, Leo Davison (Boy #4) knelt down behind a hedgerow to the east, looking through the branches. He was cursing himself. He had arrived back in K-09 only a few moments ago. After being forced to take his sweet time climbing down the mountain (the wind had made stealth more difficult, but he'd seen nobody), he'd lightly scoured K-10 and decided not to risk entering the houses just to locate a body, or worse, run across a potential foe. He'd then headed west, only to spot the two students, dangerously illuminated.

_Sebastian Hall and Anne-Marie Hunt. That's a surprise._

He'd seen Sebastian pick up the machine gun and Anne-Marie force the poker out of Kimberley Jones' body (from his angle, Leo could also make out the body of Ewan Stone). These two now had four weapons between them, three of which were guns. Leo had Jonathan Cray's butcher's knife.

'Fuck.' He swore aloud. _If I'd arrived here a minute sooner! And they didn't even have to play dirty and kill anyone. I'll just blot that out of my mind._

Kimberley and Ewan had clearly done each other in, but Leo didn't move any closer to investigate. There was no point now, and he didn't feel the need to mourn either Kimberley or Ewan. Not out of spite but… they'd just never been mates. That was all. Suddenly he had an idea, and a pretty clever one, he thought. He'd have to confront someone at some time or another, at any rate.

He checked around him, and headed for the woods.

* * *

**05:02**

Callum Harrison (Boy #8) was sitting forlornly, looking out at the marina. It looked more like a fishing club area, actually, since no boats were tied up in dock. There were few buildings, including a couple of semi-detached houses that Callum guessed belonged to some sailors or whatever. Not that there could be much work to do; after all, when Callum had surveyed the map, he'd only seen a couple of dozen buildings in total that were definitely residential.

_And there aren't any tourist attractions here, so the crossing can't normally be a big ferry job- what the hell am I thinking? Where is she?!_

He sat down on an overturned bucket. Callum was waiting, protected from the gale in the grimy, large boathouse, which was empty of seafaring vessels right now, but the tide from the sea still lapped under the shutters and against the sides of the rock wall. There were a couple of small windows and through one; he could still see the hall which he had left over five hours ago.

He didn't figure that anyone would come here because it was so close to the place where their 'instructors' were probably snoring their heads off while Callum's classmates had were literally fighting for their lives. The stony and forbidding looking harbour would be too close to the hall for comfort. It just would.

_Nobody would distrust me, though_. Callum had thought. _And even though I've got a shitty weapon_ (a battery-operated razor, like the kind a barber would use)

Callum Harrison was one of these sickening people whose mere presence causes seething jealously around them. He had everything, well all that mattered to him. He was tall, attractive, fantastic at sports, very popular and therefore exceedingly happy. His school grades were fairly average, but what did that matter? He was a good person, and he felt that he inspired people wherever he went. He avoided the 'undesirables' (_plenty of those in Class 10M)._

This massive ego wasn't lost on anybody who knew him. Even his best friends Ewan Stone (Boy #19) and Tyson Baxter (Boy #1), who had known him for years, were still annoyed by it (well, at least Tyson, as of three-and-a-half hours ago). Nonetheless Callum had surprised them when he had told them the identity of his latest (in along line) girlfriend, just a month ago at lunch.

'_Janine Carter?!' Tyson exclaimed, his mouth open, as though ready for Tyson to shovel his peas into it. 'Er- no offence, she's…good-looking enough but-'_

'_I'm just pissed that you're boasting about it, the day after I've been dumped.' Ewan whined, idly toying with his spaghetti._

'_You cheated on her! Anyway, well, I know she seems a bit…' Callum searched for the word._

'_Chavvy.' This was Tyson._

'_She's really nice, actually'_

'_Look.' Tyson snapped, 'You're only interested in one thing from her- not that you'd know much about that yet- ('neither do you!' Ewan and Callum shouted in unison) - but you can 'do' better than that. And it pains me to say that.'_

It was true, Callum now thought sadly. _She isn't coming, she's not to be trusted, and I've wasted all this time._

He didn't know why he liked Janine. Nobody did. Janine Carter (Girl #3) was a quiet and unrefined girl, one of the few young people left in the country who had unemployed parents. She dressed quite tastelessly, even though she was actually beautiful underneath the eyeliner and lipstick she piled on (Callum was something of a metrosexual, so couldn't complain about that). She wasn't involved in school life either, so she was the last person his classmates had expected him to go for. However, she was funny, _really _funny. Callum had never believed humour was so important in a relationship until he'd first spoken to her properly, in detention (Callum could usually get away with not handing work in, but this was the third time in a row). Since then, they'd gotten to know each other, finding that they both shared an interest in, surprisingly, football. Competitive sport was generally discouraged, however, if the games were all friendly and non-profitable, the government didn't have a problem.

Callum had taken Janine to all the local team's games, and she had gone to watch him play as striker in school matches. She was one of the few girls in school who were genuinely interested in the game itself. Callum found her unique, a strangely good quality. It was like going out with a guy and a girl at the same time.

And so, several hours earlier, when Callum's name had been called, he'd grabbed his daypack, and walked towards the door. Because it was at the back, he'd had to pass Janine's seat. He'd whispered 'E-03' in a very low voice just as he passed, but Janine (wisely, he'd believed) had not reacted. And so he had made the five-minute journey here, where he'd remained, though he was close to giving up. But he needed her, regardless of the chances of them both surviving until Monday morning.

_She mustn't have heard me. Either that or she's playing the game, and doesn't care about me. Or she hasn't looked thoroughly enough around the zone._

He didn't want to think about a fourth option.

As Callum ran these thoughts, the door to the boathouse opened; just slightly. Callum was so absorbed in his own self-pity to have been paying attention to the area outside the building, and whipped round at the sound of the hinges squeaking.

'Janine?' Callum drew his razor, and leapt to his feet

The figure in the doorway sneered: 'Do I look like a 'Janine' to you?'

Callum was easily visible in the starlight-bathed glare at the window, more fool him.

BANG BANG BANG. Three bullets pierced Callum's neck, shoulder and chest. He toppled over the guard rail and into the empty pool of icy sea water.

Peter Mortimer (Boy #15) ran to the rail, his smoking Walther P99 in hand. He could just about make out Callum's body, his long brown hair flailing about his face. Peter blinked behind his glasses, and then recoiled in horror.

_Heh…heh…but you've gotta play if you wanna win! Right…_

So he scurried over to Callum's bag, lying next to the bucket just waiting to be taken.

He picked it up, and promptly left.

* * *

**05:10: Surviving Contestants: 38**


	7. Ambush

**January 16****th**** 05:21**

In the five hours that had passed since she had entered into the game, Nicole Nicholson (Girl #10) had been stealthily making her way around the island, and now she was exhausted. She was walking along the west coast, so the fact that the cold sea breeze was biting at her constantly made it a struggle to continue in her quest. The wind was so strong here that her platinum blonde hair (dyed, of course) kept getting in her eyes, hindering her vision, however…

_There're only forty minutes to go now._

Nicole needed to see somebody before she began her…slightly less noble venture. She was hell-bent on finding her boyfriend Steven Wilkinson (Boy #21) before she began killing people off. Nicole couldn't kill anyone until the time of the first announcement. She had heard of this game before, but all she really knew about it was that the winner's picture was broadcast on the news. The Instructor and Miss Rothman had made the rules of the game very clear, but one thing Nicole had yet to discover was whether the killers' names were announced to the competitors along with the names of those killed.

_I hope to God that isn't the case…_

She didn't care whether the majority of her classmates knew she was a murderer or not, but she cared about Steve. Not only was Nicole pragmatic enough to realise that there was _no way_ out of the game, she also prided herself on being a good judge of character. Steve would never kill anyone. Sure, he was cocky and loud but he wasn't a killer; he didn't have the guts. Perhaps she was underestimating him.

_I mean, I hope he doesn't see me as a treacherous bitch. Yet that's what I will become, in time._

Well, Steve probably saw Nicole as a bit of a slapper, in fact that may have been the reason he'd gone out with her. Nicole wasn't bothered, so long as she could get a bit of jewellery and sex out of him. Where was the harm in that? Besides, if he was just looking to get laid, then she was no different to him. But it had become more than that. Not that anyone would believe her. Nicole's mates had been particularly sceptical. Janine Carter (Girl #3) had automatically assumed that the relationship was utilitarian, and Kimberley Jones (Girl #7) had recently sworn off boys for life after Ewan Stone (Boy #19) had cheated on her.

_So, Janine ends up going off with Ewan's best, equally commitment-phobic mate- dirty hypocrite. Kimberley's just an uptight bitch anyway, what could I expect from her?_

The friendship had broken up a few months ago, leaving Nicole with only Steve and his gang for company at school.

_What fun that was._

Mia Selwyn (Girl #15) and Sebastian Hall (Boy #7) were intimidated by her, which was odd, considering that Mia had always struck Nicole as being arrogant and bossy. Although her pathetic display of emotion during the introduction had proved otherwise.

_Well fuck them. Fuck Mia and Sebastian and Janine and Kim. Who needs them? Hope they're all dead already._

This brought her back to the task in hand. So far, Nicole had looked all over the west of the island but her efforts had proved fruitless. The wind had subsided slightly, and Nicole was now moving around in the forest, looking for a suitable place to rest for a half hour. Nobody appeared to be around here, and she eventually settled amid a clump of large trees. She wondered who had been shot.

_Perhaps it would be easier if it had been Steve._

The gunshots that had sounded hadn't been too far from here, at least not the ones from only a little while ago, however Nicole was pretty sure that she'd be invisible to anyone passing. The heath here was fairly thick, and the trees covered the rest of her, when she sat down. Anyone would have to step on her to find her.

Steve could be moving around anyway. There was no point exerting herself into tiredness. She could have waited for him at the entrance to the hall, but that would have been too risky. If anyone had seen her they might have tried to kill her.

_Not that I can't fight back. _

She had been issued with a small mallet as a weapon, which was easily capable of bashing someone's skull in with one blow, but Nicole didn't fancy having to do that all the same. A gun would have been much better.

She looked at her watch. Was Steve really worth this anxiety?

_05:39. Two minutes since I last checked._

There was no point in wondering now anyway. Seventeen-eighteenths of the time had already elapsed. She might as well wait here patiently.

It wasn't so obvious in the darkness, and during the winter at that, but Nicole had actually picked a rather beautiful spot. There were a few bluebells growing around her feet and hands, and pinecones and berries were scattered all about the ground. She jumped at the sound of an owl hooting, but that was the only living thing she could see, perched up in a tree.

Well, technically, the night wasn't entirely dead here, she noticed, as she brushed a couple of woodlice (and to, her disgust, a beetle) off her grey sweatpants. She checked her watch a final time. It was surprising to learn that she'd been sitting for longer than she'd thought. She placed her daypack in front of her, zipped it open, and raked around inside for the map, a pen, and a torch.

* * *

**06:00**

'Hello, kids. Having fun?'

Miss Rothman's voice came over the loudspeakers, which were numerous and placed strategically around the whole island. She sounded quite catty rather than sarcastic or cruel, as though she was being somehow put out. Maybe she hadn't gotten enough sleep last night.

_As if she's the only one._

Luciano Estevez (Boy #6) knelt over his map intently, pen in hand. He couldn't afford to miss a secondof this announcement, so he had convinced Daniel Oliver (Boy # 16) to move into the garden of the house in which they were staying. This would, presumably, clarify Miss Rothman's voice.

'Well,' Miss Rothman continued, 'I can't say that I'm too thrilled with the pace this game is being played at-'

At this Daniel's face lit up. _This was good news! It must mean that only a few people have died!_

Luciano looked pointedly at Daniel, who was sitting opposite him on the house's back porch, his back against the anachronistic sliding doors. It was supposed to be intimidating, but Luciano's bug-eyes were so comical this effect wouldn't have achieved under normal circumstances.

'-only four deaths? I fear we may have been better off with another class… anyway we'll start with the boys. Number Three, Jonathan Cray…'

Luciano could see Daniel's usually cheerful face brim with tears. Neither boy had been good friends with Jonathan, but hearing the confirmation of the death of a person they had known was…

'Number Eight, Callum Harrison. Number Nineteen, Ewan Stone. This leaves the only dead girl, Number Seven, Kimberley Jones. As for the danger zones, at 07:00, D-09 will activate, so be sure to avoid it. Then at 09:00, K-11. Finally, at 11:00, H-03. Did you all get that? I hope so…you'll get no reminders from me. Anyway, that's all I have for you for now, so- I'll be back at midday.'

A brief crackling noise could be heard, and then silence fell once more.

_Well, at least Carl's still alive. _

Luciano looked over at Daniel. He was crying. This wasn't surprising, as Daniel had liked to think of himself as friends with everyone. Not in the same way that Ewan Stone and Callum Harrison (both dead now) had felt as though the whole class adored them, but genuinely as friends. He must have had a somewhat sheltered and carefree childhood, Luciano deduced.

This was the reason why Luciano had joined up with Daniel and Francesca Simons (Girl #16, who was waiting indoors) in the first place. He wasn't so sure about Francesca; she'd always seemed harmless enough, but Luciano didn't know her that well. Daniel, however, he could trust, even if he drew weapons on him.

'Do you….want to go inside now...Daniel?'

'Yeah…I don't know whether Francesca heard.' He stood up and slid the door across the track, slowly. He stepped inside, followed by Luciano. They walked through the fairly empty kitchen, and Francesca was sitting on the sofa in the living room, waiting for them, her ginger hair covering her face. She looked in concern at Daniel. She wasn't going out with him, Luciano discovered, but they were good friends. Apparently Daniel had waited for her. Francesca had only enrolled in St. Mary's back in September, and she was no great mixer. Perhaps this was why Daniel had befriended her.

'Are you okay?' she asked, in her Manchurian accent.

'Who, Luciano?' Daniel turned to Luciano, who was fairly unhappy, but otherwise looked okay. He was clearly tougher than Daniel.

'Well…both of you, really. I'm alright, before you ask. It's not like I knew any of them all that well.' Having said that, Francesca moved her pale hands across her eyes, and concentrated her eyes on her map. She frowned.

'What're you thinking?' Daniel looked at her in puzzlement, but sat down on the hearth rug.

'What, apart from that I should have stayed at home with dad after the divorce?' She let out an ironic laugh. 'Well, look. H-03 goes active at 11 o'clock. We're in I-03…'

_Oh, right. _Luciano noticed it once she had said it.

They house they occupied was in I-03. They had checked and double-checked that. The problem was, I-03 was really a little peninsula, with H-03 and H-04 to the north. The rest of the zone was surrounded by water. Escaping an attack; especially with a danger zone in the vicinity, would not be easy.

'We were thick to come here.' Luciano groaned.

Francesca nodded. 'We'll have to move out.'

Daniel was now hovering over Francesca's shoulder. 'Weren't we going to do that anyway? Besides, I don't see what the danger is. We could still get out via H-04.'

'I'm not willing to risk it. And neither is Luciano.'

Luciano shook his head; though he thought what she'd said had been a bit presumptuous. 'No way. Look how small the area of land is on the map.'

It was still dark outside, so Francesca was using her torch, though she pointed it directly towards the floor. 'Right. We should leave now.'

'Why?' Both boys asked this in unison.

'Suppose we get attacked? Or one of us gets injured? We're going to need as much time as we can to cross the danger zone.'

Neither of her companions argued with her. She was probably right, and Daniel did want to meet up with some more people. So they stood up, weapons in hand, and prepared to leave. Luciano had been given a crossbow, which had been a pain in the arse to carry about. Francesca had a cutlass, and Daniel held one of his six grenades. They all looked the business, but…using these weapons would be easier said than done and Luciano doubted that Daniel would toss a grenade at all.

The three of them left the house through the sliding door. It really was an idyllic house, in Luciano's opinion, situated next to two almost identical-looking ones (collectively they were Kilbride Grove- imaginative). From the porch, its former residents could get a fantastic view out to sea, and at the mountains on the northern side of the island. It reminded him of his grandparents' house in Praia da Marinha, Portugal. Though obviously not as hot. The cold air bit at his cheeks, and he shivered.

_How I'd love to be there now._

As they moved north, not many words were spoken between the trio, except from the verbose Daniel.

'How can this be happening? We'll get out of this, see if we don't. Nobody really wants to play the game' (this one really was delusional). These phrases were repeated several times. Moving through the fairly sparse woodland in the west was fairly disconcerting, and Luciano for one had no idea where they were going. He found himself subconsciously clinging to trees. Ahead of him, Francesca and Daniel seemed to be discussing something between themselves, which was rather annoying and rude. Through the many gaps in the trees, Luciano could make out the car parking area where he had ran into Daniel and Francesca, about three hours ago. A car was still parked, abandoned. He supposed that it belonged to someone who lived in Kilbride Grove, since there had only been a dirt track leading to the houses.

Luciano had been one of the last students to leave the hall, thanks to that moron Sebastian Hall (Boy #7). His, best friend Carl Mitchell (Boy #14) had left far earlier, so had obviously been unable to wait for Luciano. Aside from Carl, he also hung out with Joshua Johnson (Boy # 11)'s group occasionally, but not enough for him to be desperate to see any of them before they all died.

_Stop thinking that! We'll find someone smart who can think of some way we can escape._

From what he'd seen, however, Francesca appeared to be quite intelligent. She had always been one of the top students in the class, and she was the one who seemed to be making all the decisions here and now. Perhaps she had a plan.

As they had been slowly travelling towards the centre of the island, morning had arrived. The sky was turning a pale shade of purple, and to the west, mist was rolling in from the ocean. It had been well over an hour now since the announcement: several people could have died in that time.

'We should stop here. I need a break.' This was true; the land was gently inclining in this part of the forest, but a lack of sleep and the energy that was burned internally was causing Daniel in particular to start flagging. Francesca suddenly turned left, and passionately hacked her way through a patch of shrubbery, looking very much like some kind of pirate. Luciano told her so.

'Oh, a bit like Keira Knightley?' She laughed, sharing a knowing look with Daniel who also giggled. It was an in-joke which Luciano obviously couldn't understand.

Nor would he.

'No, you're much better looking than-'

He never got to finish that particular sentence. The back of his skull caved in, and Luciano felt a sudden wave of sickening nausea. The pain itself was unbearable, but very brief. Then the dawn light was gone from the world. Luciano Estevez's head now had a giant, blood soaked dent in the back of it, as he crashed onto the floor. He died not knowing who had come at him from behind, but with an image of Francesca Simons' horrified face on his mind.

A feminine figure crashed through the trees, leapt over Luciano's body, and raised her mallet once again, preparing to strike.

It was Nicole Nicholson (Girl #10).

* * *

**07:14 Surviving Contestants: 37**

**Day 01 January 16****th**** First Announcement 06:00**

**Kimberley Jones (Girl #7)**

**Height: **148cms

**Weight: **70lbs

**Designated Weapon: **Heckler & Koch MP5 Submachine gun

**Time of Departure: **January 15th 23:46

**Time of Death: **January 16th 01:36

**Duration: **01H 50M

**Prior Conclusions: **Seemingly obvious physical hindrances could actually prove advantageous. Subject's outer weakness masks a somewhat manipulative and determined nature (ref: surveillance/Class10M St. Mary's/Jones). Eventual game participation is likely (ref: report/ sub ref: class dynamic and relationships). Definite finalist potential.

**Ending Report: **This has been an unmitigated, disappointing performance. First eliminated contestant, despite high-ranking weapon.

* * *

**Ewan Stone (Boy #19)**

**Height: **180cms

**Weight: **159lbs

**Designated Weapon: **Poker

**Time of Departure: **January 16th 00:32

**Time of Death: **January 16th 01:40

**Duration: **01H 08M

**Prior Conclusions: **Athletic advantage, though subject appears to have somewhat poor logistic skills (ref: performance records). Subject has strong affiliation to certain classmates (ref: surveillance/Class10M St. Mary's/Stone), which may prove troublesome as the game progresses. Chances of winning aren't staggeringly high, though subject is certainly one to watch.

**Ending Report:** Although he has the lowest survival time of this season, taking out a participating contestant with a poker after receiving several bullet wounds is in itself a commendable feat.

* * *

**Jonathan Cray (Boy #3)**

**Height: **182cms

**Weight: **166lbs

**Designated Weapon: **Carving Knife

**Time of Departure: **January 16th 00:52

**Time of Death:** January 16th 03:19

**Duration: **02H 27M

**Prior Conclusions: **Above-average height and weight will carry no benefits for this one. Subject has significantly low self-esteem (ref: psychological assessment) and is of a low co-ordination and atheletic ability (ref: performance records). Subject will probably make an attempt to seek out allies, yet is very unlikely to survive long due to his own inability to 'work under pressure' (ref: quote/sub ref: tutor/McKenzie). Nothing much to be expected.

**Ending Report:** One of the most unsurprising outcomes in a game of Survivor in the programme's history.

* * *

**Callum Harrison (Boy #8)**

**Height:** 174cms

**Weight: **139lbss

**Designated Weapon: **Electric Razor

**Time of Departure: **January 15th 23:48

**Time of Death: **January 16th 05:09

**Duration **05H 21M

**Prior Conclusions: **Excelling in sports, subject has this physical advantage. He also seems to be popular at school (ref: surveillance/Class10M St. Mary's/Harrison), which could lead to effective allies. Subject's weakness lies in arrogance and poor judge of character. A wildcard, who will probably die as a direct result of his own thoughtlessness.

**Ending Report: **No interesting activity to report whatsoever, although solitude throughout his tenure was unexpected.


	8. Pursuit

**January 16****th**** 07:14**

Nicole had stumbled across Luciano, Daniel and Francesca quite by chance. She'd just been wandering through the woods, searching, as always, but couldn't believe her luck when she found herself metres away from those three clueless losers. It wasn't that she had anything particularly against any of them; she didn't know much about Luciano or Francesca, but she'd always thought Daniel was friendly, though the two of them certainly weren't best buddies. It was a shame.

Attacking the three of them altogether had been dangerous, but luckily for Nicole, she was positioned right behind a holly thicket, with Luciano up ahead, his back to her. He was the one with the crossbow, so she'd had to attack him first. To get closer, she couldn't exactly run through the holly; even if it wasn't going to cut at her entire body, she'd make so much noise that they'd easily be able to run and escape. So, she'd manoeuvred around the bush, and behind the trees, with Luciano ahead of her. Nicole had acted quickly, finding a good position before clobbering him over his Spanish (or whatever) head with her mallet.

That was that.

_I can't waste a single moment now._

Francesca was her best bet, even if she did have that sword. At the moment, the redheaded girl seemed quite in shock, her freckled face gawping. Several times her blue eyes flicked from Nicole's mallet to Luciano's misshapen, broken skull.

Nicole jumped over towards her, raising her weapon. Only now did Francesca react, bringing her left arm up, barring her face, and her cutlass in front of her body.

'Nicole!' shrieked Daniel, in his rather high-pitched voice. 'What are you doing!? We aren't going to hurt you!

'Idiot!' Francesca shouted, successfully ducking to avoid the mallet, which instead smashed into the trunk of a tree. 'She's playing! Look at Luciano! Run away! No, wait- grab the crossbow!'

_Fuck! – No, he wouldn't dare…_

'Pick up that crossbow and, I swear, I will make both of your deaths a million times more painful than Luciano's!' Nicole snarled, panting heavily. The mallet was heavier than she'd first believed. Still, she took another swing at Francesca, who was now making a beeline for the nearest gap in the trees. This time the mallet made contact. There was breaking noise.

'YEEEAAARGHHHH!!' roared Francesca. The bone in her right forearm, the radius, was had been fractured. 'You- you fucking bitch!' Crying in agony, Francesca turned her head to Nicole, who merely smirked.

'Well, at least I'm not a _dyke_, like you.'

Francesca was in too much pain to bother responding to this cruel remark. Nor did she know or care how Nicole had found out. Nicole stooped low to pick up the cutlass that Francesca had dropped.

'You'll pay for that!' Daniel shouted, tears in his eyes, bristling with rage. Nicole looked up and saw Daniel sprinting towards her, Luciano's crossbow in hand. It was loaded.

'Don't even think about it!' Nicole leapt to her feet, her mallet in her right hand and Francesca's cutlass in her left. As Daniel fired, Nicole made a swinging movement, defending herself with her daypack (she couldn't imagine why she hadn't dropped it before killing Luciano, but she was very glad now that she hadn't).

For all her efforts, Nicole found the arrow lodged in her left shoulder.

'GRRRGH!!' Nicole let out a load groan similar to that of a mating cow. Now, though she had the upper hand once again. She truly hadn't believed that the kind, pure-hearted Daniel would ever attack her.

'Argh, argh…big mistake, Daniel!' In that instant, Nicole charged in his direction (he didn't attempt to flee, but tried to get past her), ignoring the arrow embedded in her arm, and swung her mallet for the fourth time. She brought it down on the crossbow, almost snapping it in two.

_High-quality weapons, eh? Is that actually made of wood?_

For the briefest of seconds, Daniel and Nicole made eye contact. His were awash with tears, terrified and furious. Hers were ablaze with triumph.

Daniel dropped his now-useless weapon onto the ground. He was utterly terrified, clearly, yet still he made no attempt to run away. Instead, he pushed past Nicole and ran towards the writhing Francesca. Nicole had already won, so she didn't stop him. He had the grenades, she had seen those, but he would never use them at this moment.

'Fran, don't worry, it'll be alright! Your arm hurts now, but we can get away, come on-'

Nicole was bending down right next to them. She jeered. 'Oh, for God's sake. The only way to survive in this game is to-'

'H-How can you do this? _Why?! _You killed Luciano!' Francesca got to her knees, and looked at Nicole, as though searching for a reason, then her eyes turned to Luciano's corpse. Incredibly, he had only been dead about a minute or so.

_Pathetic._

'Well,' Nicole began. She swapped the hands in which she was holding the cutlass and the mallet. 'I just want to live. I expected the same from you. After all, what has 10M ever done for you?'

Francesca looked quizzical, as though she were thinking that Nicole actually had a point. Luckily, Daniel didn't notice it. Nobody spoke, or did anything.

That was all it took.

Without any immediate warning, Nicole thrust the cutlass into Francesca's stomach, and then pulled it back out, jumping up as she did so.

'FRAN! Francesca, no!!!' Daniel grabbed Francesca by the shoulders, shaking her. Blood was spurting out of her abdomen, soaking her shirt. It immediately seeped through the cut in the fabric that Nicole had made. While Francesca contorted in pain, Daniel took of his denim jacket and pressed it onto Francesca, trying to contain the blood. It was no good. Several minutes after Francesca had stopped squirming, Daniel finally ceased trying. He was covered in blood and dirt from the ground. Then, he started wailing. It was something of a combination of crying in misery and screaming in psychological pain. Even for Nicole, it was difficult to listen to.

'So, what about Luciano?' Doesn't he deserve your tears?'

Daniel rounded on her. His face was full of nothing but hate and disgust. He didn't even look fearful of Nicole. He started to speak.

You-you…you…' Daniel said nothing more comprehensible than that, he just kept repeating it. He was quite small, and had platinum blonde hair which, unlike Nicole's, was completely real. With his face so red, Nicole thought he looked like some kind of cherub.

'Is that all you can say?' Nicole was incredulous. 'Well as last words go- hey!'

As though time-lapse photography was at work, Daniel had spun round, stood up, and was belting his way through the bushes.

_No way! No fucking way! How did I let him do that?!_

Nicole was after him. She leapt up and sprinted as fast as she absolutely could, though he was much faster than her. Some way ahead of her Daniel was darting through the trees, never looking back. Nicole ignored the various scratches and bruises she received while giving chase. She couldn't afford to run around hedges.

_I-I can't lose him!_

After almost ten minutes she turned a corner. She was on a cycle path now, a very open place within the woods. She looked right and left but Daniel was nowhere to be seen. He had to be behind a tree, somewhere. There were no buildings in the vicinity. Nicole forced herself to calm down. Then a horrible thought occurred to her.

_He-he's still got the grenade! I think…_

That was it; she'd have to give up. That little bomb could be anywhere around here. If Daniel was going to use even one of them, it would be now, when he could be sure it was only Nicole who would get injured or worse.

After one quick look around the area, Nicole turned tail. Just before she did, however, she heard a noise behind her. A childish whimper, which came from a nearby hedge. She couldn't resist having a look.

* * *

**07:31**

And so, only a few seconds later, Daniel Oliver saw Nicole Nicholson once again. He had been trying, desperately to hold back the waves of emotion that were consuming him. He hadn't known where he was running to, but now he was crouching down in a hedgerow, having thought correctly that Nicole would be forced to retreat after she lost him. It wasn't the best place to hide, and he could have continued running, but he had figured that Nicole would catch up to him eventually. It had all been in vain, as one noise gave him away. He had, very briefly, debated on pulling the pin out of the grenade and hurling it in her direction but…

_No, I will not be like her!_

There was no way he would ever play or win the game anyway. He had been responsible for the murders of both Luciano and Francesca, in his own way.

_How is it fair that they died and I live?_

Francesca had been his best friend, well one of them anyway. He had first approached her a few months ago, when she was a shy, first-day pupil at St. Mary's, sitting alone at her desk before morning registration.

'_Hi, are you new here?'_

'_Have you ever seen me before?'_

_Daniel was slightly put off, but Francesca grinned at him. 'I'm Francesca.'_

'_Oh, well I'm Daniel, if you ever- IS THAT AN OASIS BADGE!?!?' He was looking at her schoolbag._

'_Uh, well, yeah…'_

'_I love them!' Daniel lowered his voice. 'But…you probably won't be allowed anything like that here, school policy's really strict.'_

'_Thanks for the heads-up.' Francesca smiled again._

An unremarkable beginning, but nevertheless, they managed to forge a strong friendship. In time, Francesca even confided her biggest secret in Daniel. It had been difficult, and Daniel didn't see at the time how she _knew_, but…it didn't matter. Not really.

He was then reminded of Miss McKenzie, their form tutor. She was dead, too, now. He'd always liked her, since he was good in P.E., and she'd always praised him. Though none of that really mattered anymore.

'Hello, Daniel.' Nicole's face appeared over the top of the hedge. She was looking down upon him, the huntress successfully capturing her prey. 'Couldn't find anywhere else to hide?'

'Please Nicole,' Daniel was not above begging. 'Don't do this…' the tears rolled down his face. He could see, however, that Nicole was beyond reason and, perhaps, help.

'Enough chit-chat.' Nicole's face darkened, no doubt having been insulted that Daniel had tried to escape her. 'If you'd wanted to, you could have ran when we were back in the clearing, remember? Anyway, give my regards to Luciano and Francesca. It's nothing personal.'

_How can she be like this?!_

Nicole clambered in as close as she could, and raised the cutlass. As she did so, she placed the mallet just above Daniel's temple. Apparently she wasn't going to let him get away again.

Daniel just closed his wet eyes and thought of his family. There they were; his mother, father his younger sisters, and himself. All smiling after their day at the beach, last year. Just like in the photograph on their mantelpiece.

_Wonder what they're thinking about right now._

Daniel wasn't looking, but Nicole closed her eyes too, at the point when the cutlass actually burst Daniel's left ventricle of the heart.

And then it was over, much quicker than it had been for Francesca. Nicole had broken her vow, it seemed.

* * *

**07:43**

Jasmine Sanderson (Girl #14) couldn't quite believe what she had just seen. She stumbled through the trees trembling and feeling slightly sick. It was somewhat difficult not to make too much noise in the state she was in.

_Nicole just killed Daniel. That's what I saw! _

She was heading south and she was fairly sure that she wasn't anywhere near a danger zone. She'd checked several times since 06:00, but she felt the need to drop down and check her position again. The sun wasn't 'up', yet, but there was more than enough light present not to need to use her torch. She got out her compass and laid it down, next to her map. Jasmine noticed no distinguishing features around her, but she could tell that she wasn't in any danger of having her head blown off.

_Oh, that's exactly the kind of image I need._

She stood up again, and re-packed her essentials. She was tired now, and of course she hadn't slept all night. Maybe if she lost some weight she would be faring better. Well, now was the perfect situation in which to do that. Barely any food and a constant need to be moving. How wonderful life was. She then jerked out of her lapse in priorities.

_I just saw a person get murdered!_

She had heard the announcement, and four people had died since leaving the hall, before 6AM. Only after she had actually witnessed a murder could she truly believe that people were really out to kill one another.

Jasmine's 'weapon' was A GPS tracking device, which didn't display the danger zones. Up until a few minutes ago, she's been using it to avoid other people, but then she had watched two dots, clearly following each other and had decided to investigate. She had watched as Nicole had run her cutlass through Daniel. That was all that she could make out, since she didn't dare get much closer (she was peering over a stone wall that followed the cycle path), and she couldn't hear anything that was said. She only confirmed it was Daniel a few minutes after Nicole had left the area, and she'd gone to check. It wasn't a pretty sight, obviously, but she managed to keep it together.

Jasmine didn't know what was going to happen to her exactly in this game, but looking at the GPS she knew one thing: someone was heading in her direction, and she had to get out of there! Jasmine turned around, and hurried north, as fast as her stubby legs would carry her.

* * *

**07: 46: Surviving Contestants: 35**


	9. Pressure

**January 16****th**** 08:01**

Violet MacDonald (Girl #9) emerged from the thicket in which she'd spent the night, brushing her long, black fringe out of her eyes in order to check around. She wasn't cut out for this. All through the night she'd been a nervous wreck, trembling constantly. Whenever she tried to take a sip of water, the bottle had shaken so violently that only about 20% of what spilled out went into her mouth. It wasn't just the cold conditions; in fact, hiding in a series of bushes had proved to be fairly effective, plus she wore a fur-lined leather jacket.

_And I've got the bulletproof vest. Yes, I'll be alright…_

Most students would have been heartily dismayed without a proper weapon, and all of them probably wished for a gun from the moment the Instructor had read out the rules but Violet knew she would never have been able to attack someone. With the jacket and her bulletproof vest (which had been a nightmare to put on during the middle of the night) her upper body was fairly well protected.

Now, she had to move out of the area altogether. She wasn't certain that she was in D-09, but, looking at her map, the birdwatching hide which she could see a few hundred meters away definitely was. She was on a mountain; the land sloped therefore she had to remind herself that the zones that covered the mountain technically covered more land. As the fifth person to leave the school, Violet could quite easily have found an unoccupied building, but chose not to, since without a weapon she couldn't defend herself if anyone followed her in. Anyway, after the announcement of the four deaths at six, Violet had been too shaken to remember whether it was D-09 which activated before K-11 or vice-versa and there was no need to take chances. In fact, by a stroke of incredible luck (bad or good), depending on how one looks at it), D-09 was the first to go active, and Violet was now bordering the zone by about twenty metres. She'd clearly been too affected by her classmates' murder to pay enough attention to the danger zones.

She decided to head north, towards the mountain's peak. Why, she didn't know exactly, but she had the feeling that any would-be killers should be creeping around to the south, looking for victims.

It was turning out to be a beautiful day and Violet even smiled once or twice. She liked being out early in the mornings, but apart from school days, she was too lazy to get out of bed.

_It's true what they say; everything does look better in the morning._

This thought made her recall something that happened a couple of years earlier. She had spent the entire night vomiting and feeling faint, and she had just wanted it to be over, to die if necessary. The clock in her bathroom, with the dolphins, just seemed to read the same time whenever she'd looked at it. Yet when morning finally did come, she immediately felt better, at least psychologically. That was what she felt now, though of course she was scared.

_Would I have been better off in a group?_

She felt bitterly angry, towards her best friend Lauren Lucas (Girl #8), whose departure from the hall had been almost immediately before her own. She was still alive; at least she was at six o'clock. Why hadn't she waited for her? Harry Hayes (Boy #9) may have been a threat, but Lauren could easily have hidden- couldn't she?

_Yes, that's what I would have done. Hang on, I didn't wait for Francesca, does that make me a hypocrite? No, she came out a long time after me. _

Came out? She didn't notice that unfortunate turn of phrase, and even if she had, she wouldn't have known why it applied to Francesca. Francesca Simons (Girl #16) she could trust, no question about that.

On the other hand, Lauren Lucas could be a handful. For one thing, she could never keep her mouth shut. Being with her may have been a problem. She was cleverer than Violet, which meant that she might fell as though she deserved to win-

_No! What am I thinking?! She could have killed Kimberley. Or Ewan or Callum or Jonathan. Even I could take him on…_

Then she felt bad about thinking of Jonathan in this way. He was alright, really. The other three were a bit…well, Violet was surprised they had died so quickly since they had all seemed tough to her. Maybe that was why they were killed. She didn't dwell on it.

Well, she'd covered some ground. She had been walking through the trees, but following the main footpath, holding a thick oak branch in her right hand. She'd had to snap off the thin, twiggy end which would have had leaves growing on it during the summer, but it still didn't look like something she could pass of as having been given to her in her daypack.

That reminded her that she hadn't eaten for many hours now (earlier on, she'd been too weak to stomach any bread). She took out one of the small rolls and demolished it in seconds.

_God, that's good._

It was only bread. What's more it was _stale,_ the kind of bread that went to the ducks when you were a child. However, something about it gave Violet the feeling that she was stronger, somehow. She realised that she was probably going to die; after all, the vest was all well and good but no, she couldn't _attack_ anyone with it.

_Now what?_

She found herself descending. She was almost at the mountain's peak, and on the opposite side of the trail (she was on the outer side) she noticed that there was a split in the path, which continued to slope upwards. It was steep, hence the rail and fence that had been put in place to support climbers. It made no sense to go there, particularly.

_Hey, wait, can I hear someone?_

Alarmed, she checked all around her, and moved closer to the nearest tree, but nobody seemed to be there. She must be going mad.

'Wait!'

It was a female voice, clear as a bell. Violet definitely heard it, but whoever it was (she couldn't quite tell, but it sounded a bit like Kimberley Jones- though obviously that was impossible), she wasn't calling to Violet.

_It's coming from the peak._

It was. As Violet moved closer to the track to have a better look upwards she could make out a hysterical, unintelligible wailing.

_Who-who was that?_

Her instincts told her to leave well alone, and…she did at first. She turned round, preparing to head east and then south, before finding another hiding place. Then she would…she would…

_What?_

Waiting for death seemed to be her only option. Yet she knew she couldn't do that. Many people would have expected 'Shrinking Violet' to have killed herself already. She began to feel the familiar knot of hopelessness. Two days was all she had. Actually it was less than that. Checking her watch she found it to be 9:12. She had less than thirty-nine hours of life left in her. She looked back at the mountain she was climbing down.

She might as well take the initiative, for the first time in her life.

* * *

**09:12**

Stop this! Don't be so stupid, you-'

'N-no! It's all over, Janine! Not just for me, for you too.' Lucy Edmonton (Girl #4) stood sobbing her heart out, at the very top of the northern mountain. She had been in a similar emotional state since the game began. Her weapon that she had found in her daypack was a golf club, which she probably would have tried to beat herself with had Janine Carter (Girl #3) not taken it away from her.

Janine was stung by Lucy's comment but she repeated:

'Don't be so stupid! You'll find the others and…' Janine didn't know what.

'We're all going to DIE!!' Lucy looked really terrified now, her mouth hung open and her limbs flailed about. 'I will-I'm going to do it!' Lucy moved further out of the clearing and into the open, silhouetted by the rising sun.

'Wait!' Janine shouted. 'Think about this.' she grabbed Lucy by the arm.

'I-I-I-I'm gonna jump off, yeah, it's just like going to sleep! I heard…'

Jumping off the mountain was a ridiculous idea; it wasn't as if there was a sudden chasm three hundred feet deep. Even if she jumped, Lucy would land three metres away, and continue skidding until she hit a tree. A broken arm was the last thing she'd need right now.

'Stay right here! And shut up, people'll hear you!' Janine felt sympathy for Lucy, but they were both in this horrible game together, and Janine…well, wasn't high up on the class popularity list. Some classmates would kill her, given a chance.

Lucy looked at Janine with an odd look of shock in her face. 'You think people ARE going to kill us! Why did you deny it?'

'What the hell are you talking about!?'

'You said that we would find people. Yeah, that's right. But they're out to get us! You don't realise how dangerous this is!'

Janine ignored the fact that Lucy was contradicting herself, with a mad fear of death, yet threatening to commit suicide. Instead she slapped Lucy right across the face. That stunned her into silence. Janine looked thunderous.

'Don't try to tell me that I don't know what's going on! My boyfriend and one of my best friends are dead! Have you forgotten that?! I'm the one who should be crying, not you!' Janine sank to the ground, in tears now. 'Why are you with me anyway?' she added, more calmly.

This wasn't the first time Janine had questioned Lucy's motives. When she had left the school, Lucy had taken off at a mad dash, eventually catching up with Janine who moved a lot more carefully and slowly. At the time, Janine had thought Lucy looked insane, and had tried to ditch her more than once (Janine's own weapon was an Enfield revolver, so she had no need for Lucy's 'help'), but Lucy had just kept turning to her with utter desperation in her eyes.

So Janine had stuck with her, and tried to calm her down, without a great deal of success. It was a wonder that the butter-wouldn't-melt Lucy had approached Janine in the first place. Janine Carter had a reputation for general jadedness. Many a time Janine had skipped school in favour of smoking in the park with Nicole Nicholson (Girl #10) and Kimberley Jones (Girl #7, though she never smoked; her growth was, ahem, stunted enough). Other times she never bothered going to school because she was too hung over. Her parents never cared, primarily because they saw no need for an education, since all jobs tended to pay the same (not that either of them could hold one down, or had even tried- though the local authorities were at the end of their tether). Despite all this, Janine's behaviour had improved slightly in recent months. She remained cynical and lazy, but she started going to school more often. She even got on better with her father, who she'd always preferred over her mother anyway. Her friendships with Nicole and Kimberley had gone sour recently, and she'd become mates with Michelle Ashanti (Girl #1) of the sports club. Michelle hadn't waited for her; maybe she didn't really care about Janine after all.

Lucy, on the other hand, was a different story entirely. Her parents, Janine believed, worked as doctors. Lucy herself was a star pupil, the kind who could be bubbly, pretty (and she was, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. Janine was reminded of Katherine Jenkins, or some other annoying person off T.V) and gifted in all subjects. The kind of girl who had everything to live for. The kind of girl who Callum Harrison (Boy #8) should be taking out on dates.

_So why did she come over to me?_

She'd asked Lucy almost immediately after they had joined up. Lucy's answer had been somewhat surprising.

'I've…never thought you were all that bad. That's all. And I need someone with me. You'll won't leave me will you?'

Janine was temporarily touched, but their conversations had gone downhill since then. When Janine asked why Lucy's friends (Lucy was part of a gaggle of girls) hadn't waited for her, she responded:

'You came in between our departures. They might have been scared of you'. Lucy had, apparently, been able to tell that Janine was hurt by this and so added hastily: 'But it's not just you- Aidan (White, Boy #20)'s probably playing the game.' At this point, Lucy had dissolved into another mass of tears.

Now, the two girls were both on their knees, equally distraught.

_You know, more tears are going to be spilled than blood!_

Janine looked up; about to apologise to Lucy, but instead found that she was smiling at her, through her drenched face.

'Thanks…I needed that.'

Janine laughed slightly. 'Fuck yeah, you did!'

Lucy's mouth started quivering, as though she was about to start blubbing again, but then her face assumed a horrified expression. She looked past Janine.

'Janine, behind you!!' she shrieked.

Janine had dropped Lucy's club when she had reached out to grab her, but her Enfield was still clutched in her right hand. Janine whirled round, cocking the hammer as she did so. She then grabbed the revolver with her left hand and fired at the shadowy figure in the trees. She was a better shot than she'd thought, and the bullet punctured 'their' enemy in the chest.

She hadn't had time to think, and now Lucy and Janine stood up instinctively, gazing at the emo girl who Janine had shot. From this angle they could see the body of Violet MacDonald (Girl #9), lying on the ground. From what the two could see, she was unarmed.

'You killed her!' Lucy cried. 'Get away from me!' She dipped down to the ground and reclaimed her club.

'It was your fault, you stupid bitch! What was I supposed to think? I thought someone was had a knife at my throat!'

Lucy's eyes took on that state of madness once again. 'I-you're going to kill me too!'

'No! I could have done that ages ago! Calm down!'

Lucy then did something Janine had suspected she would do, but sincerely hoped she wouldn't. It was why she had taken the club off her in the first place.

Lucy held the club in the defending position, but then she moved it upwards, preparing to strike. If there had been any rational thought going on behind Lucy's glacial eyes then she might have realised it was a senseless move while Janine held the gun.

This time, Janine really did have no choice. She wished more than anything now that Lucy Edmonton hadn't seen the good in her; that she had just run off to find the likes of Zoe Wakefield (Girl #19) or Elizabeth Pullman (Girl #13). But she hadn't.

Janine fired the revolver again, and her aim was just as good as it had been seconds previously (she was firing at point blank range). She hit Lucy's left breast, just below her collar bone. As Lucy fell, the club came down with her, striking Janine's shoulder. However there wasn't enough force to make any impact.

Lucy dropped to her knees before her head fell at Janine's feet. A pool of blood began to form underneath her expensive sheepskin coat. She remained face down.

Now it was Janine's turn to drop to her knees. She was angry, and confused. She didn't even know this perfect girl, and had killed her in self-defence, unquestionably. Perhaps it was the death of Callum, who she had truly loved so, so much (thanks to Lucy, she had been unable to go looking for him- _I should hate her for that!_). Maybe it was the fact that Kimberley, who had warned Janine not to go out with Callum, was no longer here either. Something was causing her to start screaming in anguish, saliva running out of her mouth, and not care that anyone could here her. She couldn't bear to turn Lucy over and see her face, so she instead wandered over in a daze to where she had shot Violet MacDonald (whom she'd never liked- emos were, in her opinion, so weird). However…

_What?! No! I'm going mad! Shit, Lucy, I'm becoming like you!_

* * *

**09:39: Surviving Contestants: 34**


	10. Surprises

**January 16****th**** 10:12**

After he'd killed Callum Harrison (Boy #8), several hours ago, Peter Mortimer (Boy #15) hadn't seen anyone. He had been following the path around the woods for quite a while, so it was no wonder, really. He wasn't clever enough to guess that anyone who wasn't playing would probably be hiding. Although after killing Peter he had been so madly emotional, that he may not have noticed anyone. But now he had calmed down.

_But I've been in the woods for ages! Where the fuck are they?_

Peter had no doubt that if he played it smart, he could win this game. All he had to do was make sure that he didn't get his head blown off by stepping into a danger zone. He would shoot anyone he found on sight, but if he had a chance to taunt them like he had Callum then he would. Yeah, there were other people with guns but there is no way on Earth that anyone else would dare kill someone.

_Well, apart from the one with the machine gun. He'll be easy to take out. It was probably a slip of the finger or something._

This analysis had no grounding whatsoever, particularly since as of six o'clock, four people were dead, only one by his hand, but Peter knew from experience how weak-willed and soft most of his classmates were. Like the time he'd asked the class weakling Andrew King (Boy #13) for money, and he'd caved in instantly. Or the way most of the girls cried over some trouble with a boy. Or when that other guy had actually complained to his parents when he hadn't made the athletics team.

_Who was that? Oh yeah…_

None other than Callum Harrison.

At the time he'd been shocked when he'd shot Callum. Peter never usually came close to even drawing blood from an opponent, but as time passed, Peter began to enjoy the memory of killing him. It wasn't as though he was glad he had been brought here, but he hated Callum and everyone who sucked up to him. It pissed him off so badly that guys like him could get away with being orange man-whores but people like Peter…

…they say all girls like bad boys but there was bad, and there was _bad_. Being relatively thin and wearing glasses (which he hated) didn't by themselves make Peter look like a typical delinquent, but along with his occasional cohorts Aidan White (Boy #20) and Harry Hayes (Boy #9), Peter had habitually raided his classmates' bags (the practice would come in handy in this game, when he came to think of it), done drugs (Aidan had some contacts), and gone joyriding. Peter himself had been arrested and suspended from school more than once. Why did he keep doing these things? He didn't know. In fact, had Peter not done any of these things, it was unlikely his class would have been chosen for _Survivor_ at all. He didn't realise this, but Peter wouldn't have cared anyway. When he won this thing, then his life would change for the better (though he wasn't sure what happened to the winners, he'd heard rumours that they got bribed off to go as far away as possible, and never speak of their experience- Peter would oblige willingly), that was certain. His life may not have amounted to much when compared with those of other people forced to participate, but had no intention to stop playing this game.

_That's what they want._

He was thinking about the other students, all of whom would have wanted him dead by the first announcement (this included Aidan and Harry- it would have been strongly in their interests, too). He couldn't expect more than that, but the fact was, they'd _all _be forced to play eventually, so they were no better than he, Peter, was. He just had the balls to start killing straight away. It wasn't just the other students. As far as his father, Peter Mortimer Senior was concerned, Peter Junior was a waste of space- which was true enough- and anyone would be better off without him. Born in 1995 to a family full of ex-cons and wasters, Peter didn't exactly have any high expectations to live up to. After Ivy Mortimer- his mother- had obtained a divorce from her husband when Peter was only a baby, she and her son lived in Liverpool for a short time, until Ivy died in a drink-driving accident a few years later. Until he was ten, Peter had been living in a children's home, at which point his father tracked him down and they lived happily ever after. Not.

And so, over the years Peter had lived with several different carers. Presently, he wondered if any of the staff at the Home would remember him, or whether they knew he was participating in _Survivor. _Even when he'd lived with his mother, Peter had displayed a tendency towards creating as much havoc as he could, so had been a difficult child. He'd had friends at the Home, though, and they would surely be cheering him on if they had known he was here.

_But, well..._

He didn't like the idea that everyone thought him capable of killing his classmates without any regret. It wasn't like that- it just had to be done. He had to defend himself, didn't he?

These concerns were neither here nor there now, as Peter slumped down at the base of a tree. He faced west, looking at the sea. He may have been a bit too close to H-03 (which went active in about half an hour) for comfort, but he wasn't thinking about that.

_What if they've all somehow managed to escape?_

No, that was stupid, escape was impossible. Even if he could escape, where would he go? What would he do?

_Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn._

He couldn't imagine anyone calling him 'dear', but that would be the truth. Well, he would show them. He wouldn't be forgotten. Not anymore.

_Still…better not let anyone know I've seen that film with Vivien Leigh. _

He put his Walther P99 down, and zipped open his bag. When he unfolded his map and checked the compass, he found that (_shit)_ he was most likely in H-03, since he could see that little bit of land jutting out, just southwest of where he was sitting. His watch told him that it was almost twenty-five to ten, so he wasn't in any immediate danger, but he'd planned on staying here a while longer, hoping that someone would come and find him.

_Oh well, that's that plan gone._

So he decided to head east, into that hamlet-like place. There were bound to be people hiding there- how could that have just occurred to him? After packing his things away and grabbing his gun, he hunched over to dig out a bread roll (he'd finished his own long ago, and had now moved onto Callum's) and began crunching. As he did so, he heard a faint rustling behind him. It was probably just the wind, or a rabbit, but he craned his head round to-

_WHAT THE FUCK!!! AHHH!_

He felt something come over his head, and brush past his eyes. This happened in a matter of milliseconds, and suddenly there was something incredibly tough (rope, he would have guessed- but now wasn't the time) wrapped around his throat.

'KRK-AHHH! LE-' he choked on his bread, and pieces stuck in his throat, but most started spraying off his tongue and out of his mouth. It stuck to his chin, helped by the saliva.

He dropped to his knees, and began squirming, trying to move his head. His left hand grappled at the strangulating device, trying unsuccessfully to pull it away. He could feel his veins all around his neck.

_Who the fuck is this!!_

In the corner of his eye he could see a pair of black hands holding the brown, leathery object that was strangling him.

_I'm not gonna die like this! Not this bitch!_

'Throw the gun behind you and I might let you live!' It was a female voice, but it was of a lower register. It was particularly unique because there weren't many young black girls that had at any time been brought up having a strong northeastern accent, let alone after the rise of the dictator, at which point immigration and the like had ground to a halt. Of course, Peter recognised it to be the voice of Michelle Ashanti (Girl #1), simply because she was in his class.

'Did you hear what I just said?!' Michelle leaned in close, putting her head on Peter's shoulder. He could feel her frazzled hair against his neck, and could have sworn that she pulled the cord (or whatever) even tighter. She had always had famous physical strength.

_No fucking way! That gun is mine!_

Though he realised Michelle wasn't being funny. He had really grown attached to his gun; it felt like a comfort blanket he had been given when he was a small child. About the gun, he conceded that he had no choice when black dots started appearing in front of his glasses. She mustn't intent to kill him; otherwise she'd do it right now. He tossed the gun backwards.

Michelle immediately released him, and he could hear her eager footsteps scurry a few yards back.

_I can breathe! _

Something so simple had never been missed so much. Forgetting about his beloved gun and taking in air as though he was quaffing champagne, he rubbed his burning neck, and through a series of coughs and wheezes, his circulation returned to normal.

'What the fuck do you want, Venus?' He snarled and turned to face his attacker, leaping to his feet. He was seething mad, if not intimidated slightly.

Michelle Ashanti wasn't the kind of girl to be taken lightly. She was easily taller than Peter, and she was on all the girls' sports teams at school. Her hair was usually tied back in a bun, but now she had allowed it to run wild. With the Walther in her right hand, and a long curved whip (clearly her own weapon) in her left, she looked pretty damn fierce. There was now way he could get the better of her physically, and she had always been clever in most subjects at school, so it was unlikely he'd be able to trick her.

_This must be how the women feel at Wimble-_

'Don't ever call me that, you fucking murderer!' She cocked the gun by pulling the block back.

Peter's blood ran cold. 'H-how do you know that?'

Michelle smirked. 'Not even denying it? Well I admire your honesty. Now shut up and get up; we're leaving.'

Peter knotted his brow in confusion. 'Why? Go where? Why don't you kill me?'

'Don't ask me questions! Besides,' she glanced around and lowered her voice, 'we're out in the open here.'

This was true, Peter had jut noticed. The two of them were among the trees, but if anyone were on the shoreline, then they'd probably be seen. Though this was unlikely, given that anyone would be moving out of the danger zones soon if they hadn't already.

'Michelle, tell me; whaddaya want?'

She gestured straight ahead, behind Peter. 'Turn around. I want to head up to the mountains.'

'So take my gun then, bitch! Why do you need me?! Aren't you tough enough to kill me?' Peter began to get really frustrated.

_Is she playing games with me? _

'Why do think I need you, retard? I need to protect myself!'

Peter finally cottoned on. Michelle was going to use him to shield herself. Oddly, Peter felt a sudden surge of respect for her. He'd never have thought to do that with someone.

_However…_

'You-you're going to kill me at the end, aren't you?' For the first time since his encounter with Michelle, he was genuinely very scared. All of his belief that he'd win _Survivor_ had disappeared. It wasn't fair… nothing went right for him.

'Well...' Michelle responded to his question, looking slightly worried herself. 'I don't- it's not as if you don't deserve it. You killed someone back at the marina! Who was that anyway?' she added as an afterthought.

Peter swore under his breath. She must have been following him all this time waiting for a chance to jump him the moment he dropped his guard. Avoiding Michelle's eye, he replied, 'Callum. I shot him in self-defence!'

'Like fuck! I was there! In one of the houses. I saw you open the door to the boathouse and shoot at him!' She sounded furious, but perhaps it was to do more with the fact that he had lied to her. He couldn't think that Michelle was the type to concern herself with the lives of people irrelevant to her.

'A-anyway…let's go.' Pointing the gun at his face, she began to walk around him, motioning at him to walk ahead of her. Looking down the barrel of a gun really unnerved him; it was like a black hole…

_Fuck this! I've gotta get rid of her somehow…she'll kill me if I try to run away! Even if I did escape, how am I supposed to win without a gun? Or any weapon?!_

Peter didn't move. Instead he asked Michelle: 'So- are you going to kill people?'

Michelle looked taken aback for a moment. She bit her lip and looked up at the sky. It was turning a pale shade of grey, so it was likely to start raining. Michelle did not reply immediately, but started striding off into to the woods, her eyes on Peter all the time, beckoning him.

It was only when a minute had passed that she replied: 'If the time comes, then yes.'

Peter couldn't help feeling a sense of victory deep within him which he didn't allow Michelle to see.

_So I was right all along. We're not so different._

As the first drops of rain started appearing, the unlikely pairing of Peter Mortimer and Michelle Ashanti stalked off into the shadow-less trees, the sun disappearing, preparing to face any challengers.

* * *

**10:43**

Torrential rain swept the island. Unlike the gale of last night, the rain had actually succeeded in prompting the competitors in the sixty-seventh game of _Survivor _to find shelter. Even in these circumstances, wandering around in the rain was something to be avoided at all costs. Coming across somebody who was happily developing hypothermia or the flu was synonymous with running into a mad person, so nobody wanted to _be _thought of as that lunatic either. Maybe it was paranoia, too. In any case, the rain just made the situation all the more depressing and tragic.

It was the tough luck of Belle Orbison (Girl #11) that she had found herself wandering around in the mountains when the heavens opened. She had been unable to find anywhere where someone could take pity on her and let her into their home. Therefore, she was now heading south towards the row of houses which faced the mainland in the hopes of finding an empty house to rest in. She couldn't help but be grateful for the item she had found in her daypack. It was an umbrella; a black one the kind of which anyone would use walking down the street. It wasn't even a traditional one with a metal tip, so she could never have really used it to defend herself at all. Unfortunately, she was now in a state in which she was unlikely to even realise a potential threat. The umbrella protected her from the pouring rain though, and since she'd only yesterday applied a semi-permanent brown hair dye (her natural colour was a pale blonde) the rain may have had a very negative effect.

Even she was stupidly vain, this wouldn't have bothered her right now.

Belle skipped merrily along the path, her footsteps causing large puddles of water to splash up to her knees. The land was becoming flatter. She was quite delirious, and it her lack of awareness was brought on by the absolute lack of 'benzo' in her system. As an insomniac, Belle took this drug every evening to put her sleep. She had been prescribed it by a doctor several months ago, but she had continued taking it even after she had been advised to come off. In fact, she'd have been better off drinking herself into a stupor, for all the drugs were doing for her now. Deprival of such a large dosage was causing this.

_What a terrible place this is, I want the old Hyrule back! _

Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing, actually. While her classmates were running scared, crying their hearts out, Belle was quite contentedly finding fault with her surroundings. If she died here, at least she'd die relatively happily.

_Oh, Belle, you moron! You're in Kalimdor now obviously! Tsk, Moonglade is far behind and this must be Darkshore. I hope there are no Furbolgs lurking… I've only got 900 HP. I shouldn't be in this zone at all I'm only level 18- aren't I… I don't remember._

For some reason she thought this was quite upsetting. She moved her hand across her face, a few tears moistening her smooth, pale skin (she wasn't supposed to eat much sugar, so spots had never plagued her). Though her moment of confusion was easy to justify. Lauren Lucas (Girl #8)'s character was at level 18. Leo Davison (Boy #4) had a level 62 and once when he'd been in Moonglade he couldn't believe his health was down to 900 already…

_Yeah, that's right. A few boys in the class have the game, but me and Lauren are the only girls. Violet was always too boring to play. Hey…wait a minute._

That was a _game_, and it wasn't real. Most things from the day had been a blur, but she could definitely recall seeing Ewan Stone (Boy #19) a while ago, among others. He didn't seem like the type to play games at all. He had called Lauren a nerd before this thing for playing..._what was its NAME?! That doesn't matter._

As she looked around, she could remember now. She and the rest of her class had been picked to play another game, one which for some reason felt real. Perhaps it was virtual reality, but yes, her whole class was here with her. Well, thirty-eight at the most, since four had been 'eliminated' the last she had heard.

_They clearly aren't very good. _

She had been walking south for quite a way now, and reached a fork in the road.

_The number of times I've gotten lost falling for this trick and taking the wrong path._

This time though, she knew she had to head east, and she had been walking south so east was to her left. She didn't need to bother with the compass, and took the left track. It could very correctly be identified as a dirt track now, and was basically a shallow river. For a minute of so she walked along a beautiful avenue of trees, getting her feet absolutely drenched in the process (she allowed the water to seep through her trainers, freezing her feet but she paid no attention).

_Ah, here we are._

She could see the houses a few dozen metres away once she'd turned a corner. They all looked out to the sea; an angry metaphorical beast, its waves crashing violently against the shore. It would have been the perfect place to paint a landscape. Belle reached the end of the path, and surveyed the houses. She stood in full view of anyone who happened to be looking out of a front window, and since the hammering noise of raindrops hammering against her umbrella was irregular when compared to the softer splashing of rain on dirt, anyone alert might detect her presence. She crept backwards.

_They can try, but I will not lose now, so early. _

She decided to try entering the first house she came to. Each house had a back garden, so there was doubtlessly a back entrance. A secondary entrance was usually the correct, effective one. She moved around the side of the house, cautiously checking around for foes. There were none, but that gave her an idea. A little way behind her, a red brick wall had been built. It was considerably younger than the rest of the houses, about two metres high and it wasn't connected to anything. Belle could not see its purpose. However, maybe it was just for extra privacy, as if the surrounding trees weren't enough. Whatever it was for, it could serve her very nicely now.

In tense situations, people reacted to _anything._ Her plan was to throw a heavy object at a window- it didn't matter which- and completely smash it. Anyone inside the building would immediately lose their nerve and flee. Her weapon didn't seem to have been upgraded yet, so she probably couldn't attack them, but she'd hide behind this wall and, if she had to, escape into the forest.

_Now then, a suitable rock or-_

She quickly ducked instinctively, but nothing happened. Out of the corner of her eye, she had noticed a person slouched at the foot of the wall, between the long blades of grass. It was no mutant or monster; it was a blond boy, who was wearing some kind of green, baggy sweatshirt…

_Link!? No, I'm playing that other game now._

The thing was; he wasn't moving. At first, of course, she assumed him to have been defeated, so she crept in closer. However, she couldn't see any blood, so perhaps he'd been poisoned. She had to investigate further, and snuck up to him.

She was only a few metres away now, the umbrella scraping the bricks as she moved. She could now see a knife in his hand, the blade glistening. This struck her as slightly odd- who would kill someone and not even take their weapon? They could have had a good weapon, but-

The boy stirred, and a faint snore could be heard.

Belle jumped in alarm; _he's still alive! But he's fallen asleep…_

She failed to see how anyone could be asleep in this situation. Playing characters never fell asleep, just like they never went to the toilet- which was also strange, come to think of it. Belle could faintly feel as though she'd had to use a bush as a convenience some time in the past, without logging out, but she could ponder that later.

It was against her better judgement that she decided to wake the sleeping guy up. She wouldn't have, but as she squinted, her mind was struggling to name this person whom she recognised as a friend. She had to give him a sporting chance at this game, plus it didn't seem fair to try to kill a sleeping person.

_Oh, I remember your name now!_

She was crouching right over him now, and the umbrella was shielding his face from any raindrops. Belle reached out her pale hand, and shook him by the shoulder. She spoke to him in a whisper.

'Leo? Are you OK? Come on now! Time to get up!' She slapped his face lightly.

'AH!' Leo Davison (Boy #4) awoke very suddenly. His eyes were wide and darted around in fear and confusion. Perhaps he was checking his surroundings, wondering- _and well he might-_ how on earth he had gotten into this position. The girl's face was only centimetres from his own, smiling kindly- though he didn't register that. His immediate reaction was to jolt upright and leap backwards. Then in a moment of realisation he leapt directly at Belle, his left hand grasping her arm.

_Fucking traitor! After I was warning him!_

Getting over her shock, she managed to wriggle free of his grip and, although she wasn't totally aware of the danger, she could appreciate that if she wanted to continue playing then the time to act was now, else she'd be eliminated. With all her might, she thrust her umbrella in his face, which- either intentionally or not, was sliced by Leo's knife, causing a bursting noise. She'd missed hitting him completely, and through the thin slit, she could see Leo, holding his knife across his face with his right hand, grunting. Belle only succeeding in retreating by a few paces and he was lumbering towards her.

_Fleeing is my only option. I'll have to combat him later, damn it!_

Belle turned to run, but she didn't even make it into the woods. The ground here was thick with mud, so much so that it resembled a bog. As she leapt over a log, her left foot skidded in a particularly filthy puddle, and inside her chest she felt the familiar fluttering that comes with surprise and anticipation.

Belle's entire body was flung into the mud; only parts of her back and trousers remained uncoated in a deep, murky sludge. The umbrella had flown out of her hand when she had, unsuccessfully, tried to use both arms to prevent her falling completely. It was in that instant; when her hand had dashed against a rock that she felt a sudden, sharp pain in her palm. She used her left hand to prop herself up and shake the excess mud out of her face, as she turned her right hand over. Sure enough, amid the mud, there were a few grey pebbles embedded in her hand. The blood oozing out was warming up her fingers, but she didn't care about that.

_Pain…this hurts but…why?_

Belle never realised where she was, and that was indeed a blessing. She had escaped much of the anguish and grief that would come to torment her classmates. In a way, she had defied the producers of _Survivor, _who thrived on these feelings.

If she had ever known that she was actually about to end her life right here, there was probably nothing she could have done to prevent it anyway. Now, her thoughts returned to her opponent, who she had quite forgotten about in her moment of bewilderment.

Belle craned her head to look at Leo, but she only got to about 30 degrees. At that moment, the area between her shoulder blades began to burn.

Belle automatically arched her back, subconsciously trying to contain the agony that caused tears to spring into her eyes.

Her scream was caught in her throat as she tried to eat the pain, and only a slight croak actually escaped her mouth. Perhaps her lung had been punctured. Her elbows gave way, and she slid into the mud once again.

Just as she did, from behind her, Leo yanked the bloody knife out of Belle's back, as if it was Excalibur. Panting heavily for a moment, he then plunged the knife in a second time.

The darkness came before her eyes, but those two famously hated words did not, as she had previously assumed that they would.

_Game Over._

* * *

**11:27: Surviving Contestants: 33**


	11. Killer Couple

**January 16****th**** 11:28**

The house in which Serena Wells (Girl #20) was hiding, accompanied by her boyfriend Andrew King (Boy #13), boasted a spectacular view of the Atlantic Ocean. It was almost peaceful for Andrew as he gazed out of the dirty kitchen window beneath the net curtains. He could almost make out another island several miles in the distance. Of course, at the moment the sky was filled with thick rolling clouds.

_Cumulonimbus? Yeah, the Geography lesson…_

It was more of a cosy kitchenette than a kitchen. Andrew was sitting at the tiny circular table which was covered by a dusky pink tablecloth, holding the hilt of his sword. It was a real sword, too- the kind that could be used in fencing. The hilt was intricately designed and probably impractical, while the blade was a slender and flexible. Nevertheless, it did little to comfort Andrew, the sweat beads falling down his face. His eyes remained fixed on the red pot of pine and heather which functioned as the centrepiece of the table. He was perching nervously on the edge of the wooden stool, and jumped ever so slightly when he heard a sharp intake of air behind him. Serena was standing a metre or so away at the bench, carefully poring a bottle of water into the kettle. Her dark brown hair covered her face, so Andrew couldn't see, but he could tell she was crying.

'S-Serena? Is something the matter?' he asked tentatively. His full lips (he didn't like this feature of his face- though many girls were envious) remained parted, as though ready to respond to the inevitable.

Sure enough, as she pushed the plug of the kettle into the socket, Serena turned to face Andrew, her eyebrows raised. She curled her mouth into a mocking sneer.

'No, nothing at- at- all. This is probably my last day alive, but...you know, I d-don't care or anything.' Her attempt at sarcasm was marred somewhat by the sobbing, and she knew it. She picked up a dishcloth and wiped her face, before slouching over to the table to sit opposite Andrew. To avoid looking directly at him, Serena placed her elbows on the table and her palms on her cheeks. When she spread her long, pianist's fingers out, she covered most of her face.

Andrew had always been submissive to Serena, even before they started going out. Their relationship was rather childish, actually. The two rarely saw each other outside of school, and they hadn't even kissed yet. However, since the only other current pairings in the class involved Nicole Nicholson (Girl #10) and Janine Carter (Girl #3), both of whom were considered so trampy and unpopular that nobody cared, Andrew and Serena's was the only relationship taken seriously by their peers. They had only started 'dating' because they ran in the same crowds, and it seemed like the proper thing to do- everyone else seemed to be, ahem, trying this sort of thing.

'Well…' Andrew began, 'at least you get to spend it with me. That must compensate, right?'

Serena lowered her hands and laughed. 'Yeah, I suppose you're right. What more can a girl ask for than for you to protect her?' She was only joking, but it was too kind to be sarcastic.

Andrew sniggered too. He would certainly do his best to defend Serena in a crisis, but a knight in shining armour he wasn't. He was of fairly average height and not exactly muscle-bound. He was also squeamish; therefore…he might even pass out if he saw any blood.

'It's nice here. I almost forgot that- there are people dying all around us, and that we could be next.' Serena was of course referring to the cottage, and the surrounding area. The cottage itself was devoid of life when Andrew had found it, but unlike most of the other houses on the island (though Andrew didn't know this), this one must have been abandoned very abruptly indeed, for it was still equipped for inhabitants. The kitchenette formed part of the living room, and, though there was a narrow passageway, it only led to a bedroom and a bathroom. It was, externally, little more than a shack (in fact there were several similar in the vicinity) but every single room was furnished tidily. At first, Andrew had assumed it to be a holiday home, but this notion was dispelled by a photograph he noticed on the bedside cabinet. It was of a small girl, set in a gilded frame. On closer examination, Andrew had found clothes, books and other personal items stored away in the closet and drawers. Whoever lived here had been a neat freak.

Andrew really, really hadn't cared less when he had first arrived. He wasn't one of the first to be released, but at least two-thirds of the class remained in that room when his name was called. Last night had been something of a blur to him, and he could barely remember what he had been told of the game rules. He was smart enough to know how to read a map and compass, so all he needed to know about was the danger zones, which were announced periodically.

_In fact… there should be one coming up soon…_

He had needed to hide in a house. He just couldn't bear the thought of running around in the woods waiting to be attacked. So, he wandered north until he'd stumbled across this place, hidden by thick trees, but easily visible from below. Climbing steady he arrived at the flat, rocky trail that led up to the building. He noticed that the 'road' had tyre tracks leading up to it, and expected some kind of agricultural field to be nearby, but of course there was none. When he had cautiously crossed over to the cottage, there were no vehicles in sight. Though this was naturally of no concern to him at this point

He broke in by forcing the bedroom window open. The door was locked and Andrew didn't want to break it down. The window was an old-fashioned type which opened outwards on a latch. The frame was so old and in such dire need of being repainted that Andrew was able to jimmy the window open by poking away at the tiny crack until enough wood came away for him to simply be able to slide his sword through the gap, push upwards and force the latch. He wasn't sure whether or not he'd broken it, but he gathered up the splinters and threw them into the grass.

From then on, he'd simply waited. There was nothing else he could have done. After performing a cursory check of the building, he'd found a comfortable place to rest. Crouching in the corner of the bedroom, he'd cried a few times, and had remained in that position for several hours,. There was no need to worry about losing energy- the house was still full of food. He had swallowed several coffee granules to keep himself alert. 6AM came around. He'd heard the gunshots, obviously, but was still shocked when the names had been read out. _So there ARE killers out there…_

He only remembered Serena when her name was not announced on the list of the deceased. He'd felt ashamed for this, but the two of them weren't close enough to make meeting up a given. Andrew reasoned that she was probably with her friends. Andrew hadn't waited for any of his own. Joshua Johnson (Boy #11) was the presumptive leader of the clique, since he was the only one the group all seemed to respect. Joshua had left before Andrew, but Andrew wouldn't have trusted him, especially if he'd had a notably lethal weapon, so was glad Josh hadn't hidden outside the hall. Josh may have seemed charismatic, but he had a ferocious temper and was not to be trifled with.

_Still alive, maybe he's one of the murderers?_

'Andrew?'

'Yes?'

'Nothing. I'm just glad that I found you.' Serena smiled; she looked so much prettier when she did that. Serena had an aquiline nose and heavily-lidded dull grey eyes, so she looked rather stern otherwise. She hadn't had a lot of trouble finding Andrew, but she hadn't actually been looking for him. She'd left the hall fearfully, but expecting to be greeted by Zoe Wakefield (Girl #19) and maybe some other girls, but nobody was there. Serena was braver than Andrew, so had not needed to immediately find a house for comfort. Even though she had a crummy weapon (a can of mace) she had tried unsuccessfully to think of a way out of her predicament while on the move. She had only seen two people. Daniel Oliver (Boy #16) was a cute and friendly boy and he was accompanied by the mysterious Francesca Simons (Girl #16), who Serena thought was rather unsociable. She let them pass by without seeing her (this was only an hour after she began the game, in the woods). There was no point looking for anyone in particular- she'd run across them eventually. If they died however…well, she wouldn't have to be present. After several hours and hearing the first announcement, she had eventually encountered the cottage in which Andrew was hiding, fairly high up the mountain. She didn't know what drew her to it. It may have been instinct, or it may have been sheer frustration and a desire for warmth. She hadn't known then that Andrew was hiding there; she hadn't even seen the bedroom window, having come to the cottage from the north. She'd hoped that there'd be a spare key hidden somewhere near the front (and only) door, but to her disappointment there was none. Realising she could probably be seen from the south at a considerable radius, Serena then lost her nerve, gathered up her bag and prepared to find somewhere else when-

'_Serena!'_ Andrew's loud 'whisper' came from the living room window behind her. She leapt around; clutching her heart upon seeing the boy leaning out across the windowsill…and the rest was a five-hour history.

They hadn't spoken about the game at all. Andrew had just assured Serena that all the windows were locked and that he hadn't switched on any of the lights since he had arrived. Serena had told Andrew what she had been doing before she got here and that was that. He trusted her story- he didn't see how she could have killed anyone, even if she'd wanted to. It was unspoken between them, but neither really wanted to leave the cottage. Romance was the last thing on either person's mind right now, but they could forget that while they were here…others were…Andrew and Serena didn't really want to think about their friends being murdered, so nobody else was brought up in conversation.

'The kettle's boiled.' Serena announced pointlessly, as Andrew's body jerked at the hissing noise, while the steam began crawling up the tiled wall.

Serena left Andrew sitting at the table, and wandered across the room. She took a spoon and sprinkled the coffee into two mugs before pouring out the water. It was of no decent quality, but it would do.

'Thanks.' Andrew took his mug from her and brought it to his nostrils, inhaling the heavenly scent. It calmed him down somewhat, and he gratefully took a sip.

'What are you doing?' Serena remarked in amazement. Her eyebrows had risen behind her fringe again.

'What? Oh, my mouth isn't very sensitive.' He realised that she was referring to his apparent ability to comfortably drink boiling water.

'D'you wanna test out that theory?' It had slipped out of Serena's mouth before she could stop it.

Andrew actually spluttered as his coffee went down his throat. He sprayed it across the table and, unfortunately, onto Serena's blouse. She merely laughed.

'Ah, sorry! What do you mean?' Andrew cleared his throat, his eyes wide.

Serena felt a little foolish, but now that she'd said it, she might as well elaborate. 'It's just that we…I know at our age it should really have progressed to…_it_ by now-if we were hardcore- but…' She was blushing! That didn't happen often at all.

Andrew stood up in anticipation, and reached out his hand. She looked sceptical.

'Er…you're not leading me to the bedroom, you know. I'm not that easy.'

'No, I wasn't thinking that! But just…' Andrew instead opened his arms to receive her in a hug. His arms were, Serena noticed, trembling.

_You are so adorable! Wimpy, but still, very sweet. _ She didn't say this out loud; now was not the time. It wasn't time to be kissing either, but to hell with that.

She smiled awkwardly, and rose to move closer to him. She quickly rolled up the sleeve of her brown jacket, and slid a hair bobble off her wrist. She tied her hair back out of the way. Robotically, she put her hands in front of her, and took a step forward. She felt faintly pathetic that cuddling her own boyfriend brought on so many butterflies.

_Though Dad would be delighted. What's he doing now…?_

The two were almost touching. Each felt a flurry of nerves in their chests, not vastly different to the anxiety of 'competing' in _Survivor. _It was equally intense, but in a completely different way. The feeling was a bit much for Andrew to take, so much so that he considered backing out, but thankfully never got the chance. It would have been fulfilling to have just one tender moment, but alas….

CRASH!! The slamming noise came from the hallway, followed by a roaring of thunder. Serena couldn't help but feel slightly…disappointed, amid the fear welling up inside her.

'YAH-!' Serena pushed her hand into Andrew's mouth (pity it wasn't her tongue) and brought him to the floor, both of them holding a breath. She crawled back slightly, as though the tabletop would be effective in shielding her. Looking at Andrew's face, Serena could tell that he was struggling not to whine in misery.

The wooden door that opened onto the hall was closed, and it was the only way out of the room. Leaving by that route would be out of the question.

Sweating, Serena realised she had to think quickly. Andrew was just as clever as she was, but evidently logic would have escaped him. Serena Wells could be quite the strategist, unlike Andrew-whose strongest subjects were food and design technology (Mickey Mouse subjects as far as Serena and other non-creative boffins were concerned); she had always been gifted at maths and science. Her friends may have considered her a bit of a…as if she should be more mature and cool, but she admitted to enjoying doing Sudokus and stuff. She had to believe that her quick wits would save her now.

The front door must have been kicked down, yet she heard no footsteps in the hallway. The room remained absolutely still, but anyone could burst in at any second…they'd both been stupid remaining here for so long…perhaps.

Serena concentrated every last fibre of her being, forcing herself to think rationally, as if this was all just pretend. It was possible that whoever had broken in had simply found nothing and left. This was unlikely: why break into a house and not even check around? On top of that, the storm was still raging, so nobody should be in a wooded area with a possibility of lightning…on the other hand; common sense was not quite so ubiquitous among 10M even in normal circumstances.

Whoever it was must be waiting for her to make a move. He'd be waiting right outside the front door, alone. If he (or she) was a threat, then they wouldn't be part of a group. It made no sense to play the game with another person. She looked up at the window, desperately. This train of thought lasted about a second.

'S-Serena…'

'Grab the sword,' the whisper was barely audible 'we're going out there.' She pointed upwards. Nobody dangerous could be out there. Anyone with an ill will would have checked the windows, and even if Serena and Andrew couldn't be clearly seen due to the darkness, and the soaked window, the steaming coffee cups would be a dead giveaway. Besides, she would have heard footsteps in the mud outside the window…wouldn't she?

She made to stand up, slowly. Suddenly, Andrew latched onto her arm and pulled himself up slightly. He stretched out his neck and kissed her, on the cheek.

'I-'

'It's OK,' she responded, flushing faintly, 'Thank you.'

The daypacks had been kept at an arm's length at all times. Serena reached out for hers. She'd have to leap down and run as soon as she exited the window, regardless of the pursuer's identity. The kitchen window was on the opposite side of the house to the front door. As quickly as she could, Serena stepped onto the table, realising that she would have the best chance of escaping if she went first. Andrew may have understood this too.

Her nerves steadied slightly. Casting a brief glance outside, she saw no movement other than the torrential rain. It might be safe…but it might not. Andrew motioned to her to go. He was shaking now, so he was probably fighting his own instincts to crouch hidden under the bed. Serena smiled briefly at him. She certainly was not in love with Andrew, but…she did like him a lot more than she'd previously thought.

It was time for action. Serena undid the latch, swinging the window wide open. Wind started howling in the room, accompanied by the heavy droplets of rain. Opening the window was more difficult than she'd anticipated, since she still held the mace…

_Shit! _

She'd left the butter knife, which she'd planned on carrying with her, on the kitchen bench. She couldn't grab it now, goddamn it. It was too late, the window was already open. She tossed her bag out a millisecond before she jumped out, finding herself ankle-deep in mud, and already drenched. She could hear Andrew's bag hit the ground behind her. She turned right and began running; Andrew would soon catch up to her.

Her blood ran cold when she saw, just to her right, a tall figure standing a few metres away, on a sloping area of the woodland. Serena couldn't see exactly who it was, as the person was hidden in the shadow of the trees. Still running, but now feeling sick, Serena was eventually able to tell, as the figure moved closer towards her, raising its right arm…that it was a girl. The thought of turning around did not occur to her, but it would have made little difference anyway.

'Andr-!'

The Walther P99 was fired, the golden shell flying out. The barrel of the gun was pointed directly at Serena's head, and the bullet found itself lodged in the left side of her skull. Pieces of her brain rained out and into the grass. Serena fell to the ground. Of course she had died instantly. Blood immediately began covering her face as it trickled down from the top of her head.

Andrew was right behind her, clambering out of the open window. From the moment Serena had almost screamed his name, only a second or so ago, the world had stopped. He didn't feel anything immediately, just emptiness as he looked at her destroyed head, the rain cruelly bearing down on her. He blinked several times, and he didn't even hear the deranged cry coming from behind him, as another boy scurried from the area facing the front of the house. It was all happening, but it wasn't, not to Andrew.

'Ha! It looks like the ball's in Venus' court now!'

Peter Mortimer (Boy #15) probably expected some sort of furious reaction but that wasn't what he got. Andrew dropped to his knees and remained frozen in place. His backpack slid off his shoulder and into the mud. It felt as though he was watching it all on T.V., so there was nothing to respond to.

Michelle Ashanti (Girl #1) obviously sensed that Andrew was no threat. She emerged from her stalking place like a successful poacher, and moved down the slippery mound towards him. Her entire body was waterlogged; her hair stuck to her face and neck.

Andrew didn't bother looking up at her, but if he had, he might have noticed a tear falling down her cheek. He couldn't have attacked her; he'd dropped the sword. Now, a tear ran down his cheek.

Michelle may have spotted this. 'I'm sorry, Andrew.'

The gun was only inches away from his forehead. Andrew still made no attempt to move; he couldn't bear to look at Serena in the state she was in.

_It'll be over soon._

BANG!

A hole, larger than the deep crater on Serena's crown, appeared in Andrew's forehead. The area from his left eyebrow up to his temple had been completely blown away. The expression on his face otherwise remained the same. His body had hit a dryer patch, so the blood would quickly cover the surrounding area. If anyone were to come across his body, then they'd think he hadn't seen it coming. Or if he had, he hadn't cared. This wasn't such a bad legacy to leave; Andrew's reputation as a weakling would cease to be.

**11:42**

'SHIT!'

Michelle Ashanti leapt backwards in disgust as Andrew King's blood, brains and god-knows-what-else splattered onto her clothing. Peter Mortimer sniggered to her right, sharply stopping when Michelle aimed the gun at him. About a second later, he erupted in laughter again: having the gun pointed at his chest had become something of a cliché in the hour that he'd spent as Michelle's captive.

Michelle lowered the gun, realising how ridiculous she must look. She wore a baby blue zip-up cardigan, so now that it was covered in blood stains, she would look like…like…

_A crazy serial killer._

She stood in silence for a moment, her eyes fixed on the two bodies at her feet. Conflicting emotions stirred up inside her. She knew that she had just murdered two people in cold blood but…her chances of surviving had increased; that was the objective after all.

Michelle Ashanti had to win _Survivor._ Reason told her that there was no point dithering about worrying about morality. Only one person got out of here alive, and, if all went to plan, it would be her. Michelle had always been a star athlete; she could hold her own against any boy, even having a height advantage over the majority of them. She had no desire to play sports professionally, given just how competitive the U.K had become. Her real plans for the future involved her going to University and studying to be a lawyer. A standard ambition, albeit one which ended for most children when they hit about 13 or younger. For her, it could well happen. Hell, she wouldn't even have missed any schooling. Then there were her parents. She owed it to them to return home. She longed to simply be told "I'll never let you out of my sight again!" by her mother, as she'd said when Michelle had gotten lost on a day trip to York when she'd been about seven or eight. A lifetime ago.

Peter spoke up.' I've got to hand it to ya, Venus, flushin' em out like that was a pretty good plan.'

Peter and Michelle had just happened to be in the area when the latter noticed the trail leading up to the house. Unbelievably, Serena Wells had been standing at one of the windows, as if she'd wanted to be seen.

_Some brainbox she was_.

It had been easy for Michelle to climb up onto the tall mount (conveniently peppered with shrubs and smaller trees) from where she could view each side of the building. She'd had Peter break the door down and hide in a nearby spot where Michelle could see him at all times. She knew that she could have just started hurling rocks at the place, but she thought correctly that a broken door would cause Serena more anguish. It had been surprising that Andrew was with her, but then again they were going out. If Michelle had been thinking clearly she'd have realised that Peter could have run off when she descended to finish Andrew off. Luckily for her, Peter was too stupid. Although, Peter not being near her was an entertaining prospect. He moved nearer to Andrew's body, stooping over to pick up the sword that had been dropped.

'Can I have this?' he asked hopefully, widening his eyes in a horrible interpretation of innocence.

'No,' Michelle snapped out of her trance, surprised that she'd let Peter get so close to picking up the weapon, 'I'll take it. You go through the bags and take some of their bread and water.' She looked at her watch. 'Damn it, it's nearly time for the announcement.'

'Already? Time flies…' Peter was narked that Michelle hadn't trusted him with the sword, as if he'd thought she ever would. He picked up Andrew's bag, and tossed it through the open window into the kitchen. It landed on the table, causing the cups of coffee to crash onto the floor.

'What-?'

'We might as well stay here,' Peter replied, knowing what Michelle was thinking. 'If we stay outside, the paper'll get wet when we mark the zones down.'

Michelle shrugged. It made sense, but only for a short while. The gunshots would probably attract people but…if anyone came running then she'd just have to kill them too.

'Scared that someone'll know what you did?' Peter sneered, putting one foot on the window ledge, making to climb through.

Michelle's face darkened. Peter had struck a nerve. It was true that she didn't want to be known as a psycho, but it was the way he'd said it. He obviously didn't believe that she gave a damn about Andrew or Serena. Not many people in school actually liked her, particularly since she'd become a 'chav' in the eyes of her classmates since she's started hanging out with Janine Carter (Girl #3). She was also pissed off that he'd witnessed her kill off two classmates and wasn't any more frightened of her. 'Fuck you! I-'

'You what?'

Peter waited, his lips curling even further as he saw that Michelle just didn't have an answer to that. She pursed her lips, picked up the sword (she'd stashed her whip for the time being) and followed Peter inside.

**11:49: Surviving Contestants: 31**


	12. Discovery

**January 16****th**** 11:49**

'_No! D-d-don't do it, Estella! PLEASE!! I'm begging you!' the girl pleaded pathetically, quivering on her knees at the mouth of the cave. The tears were rolling down her face, but Estella was not the kind to allow such displays of emotion to affect her. Her face was triumphant._

'_But Lisa- to have survived this long, how can I believe that you won't kill me? I'm sure you didn't get this far by sheer luck…'_

_The Walther P99 was fired, the noise bouncing of the walls of rock, along with a sizeable amount of Lisa's blood. She'd been killed instantly, a bullet piercing her heart. Her body slumped to the floor. Estella could see it all in graphic detail as the moonlight illuminated the cave. It had only taken twenty-five hours, but she'd done it! It was all over…at long last. Estella had sustained injuries to her back when she'd fought that person- Thomas- who had the scissors, but otherwise she was fine. The scissors were presently stored in Estella's daypack. She realised that her throat was sore, and she had used up her own water supply, so was relieved to find that Lisa still had a bottle left unopened. Rooting through the other girl's bag, she waited for the inevitable announcement. Lisa was definitely the-_

'HUWHA-!'

Miss Rothman yelped as she felt a cold hand on her shoulder. She sat bolt upright in bed, her eyes wide. In the room she was seeing a long wooden table…a coffee machine….and little else. For a moment she felt somewhat confused.

_Where am-oh! _

Her memory instantly returned. She sighed heavily, and lay back down, pulling the white duvet back around herself. She snuggled back into the pillow. Any bed on Earth was comfortable when she'd been sleeping in it for the past few hours.

'Miss Rothman…are you okay?'

It had only just fully occurred to her that she was not alone. Her shoulder was even still a little chilly where it had been touched. Luckily she'd been wearing pyjamas, albeit loose-fitting ones. Her body shot up once again, and she found herself face-to-face with…

_What's his name…it doesn't matter!_

She couldn't see clearly without her glasses on, but…

'What the fuck are you doing in here?!' she shrieked, looking quite demented in her fury. The soldier was obviously terrified, actually jumping back in fear.

'I-I knocked Miss Rothman, b-but you…it's ten minutes to the announcement- I had to wake-'

'Get out!' Miss Rothman bared her teeth, and stretched her arm out to retrieve her spectacles from the top of her open suitcase, which she'd seen little point in fully unpacking. 'I'll be ready in a minute, dammit!' She looked at her watch, which she'd forgotten to remove.

_11:53. Fucking hell!_

**11:57**

Miss Rothman scurried down the hallway, a difficult task in heels. She tottered rather amusingly, her arms swinging about. She hadn't had time to put makeup on, so this was the only way in which she could look remotely feminine. Her blonde locks were ragged and tied back in a simple ponytail. It may have simply been the product of being woken up in the manner that she had been, but she found herself bitterly regretting having come here. This job was nowhere near as satisfying as she'd thought it would be. There was precious little work to be done, and she was confined to the building at all times. Much to her chagrin, she'd been told that simply opening a window (bulletproof glass, naturally) for some fresh air could be an open invitation for someone to start shooting.

'_How's that? The area is a danger zone, so if anyone comes near then…'_

'_Oh, well some of the guns issued are quite powerful, Miss Rothman'. _This soldier was more submissive and servile than the one that had been on duty six hours ago.

'_Well, it's a good thing that it's January. If it was a hot month I think I'd be willing to risk it.' _

She'd just have to put up with it. The end would come soon enough…which was what she was waiting impatiently for.

Currently, she was flanked by the soldier who had entered her room ('Smith' was his name, apparently). She particularly disliked Smith. The incompetent SOB had waited until the last possible moment to wake her up and escort her from her 'living quarters' (a small conference room) up to the top floor, in order for her to make the announcement.

'I apologise, Miss Rothman,' Smith repeated. He was an anxious looking kid, not much older than her. He was smaller than the other men, but looked pretty much indistinguishable, with the same haircut and uniform. 'I understand that-'

'Will you shut up?' Miss Rothman reached the foot of the wooden staircase, and began to climb, with Smith following her lead. Together their shoes made a series of metallic booming and cracking noises as they ascended.

The two quickly reached the door to the control room. 'If you don't talk to me, then you'll be- what are you doing in here?!'

Miss Rothman had opened the door to be faced with the Instructor; combed, shaved and fully awake. He smiled at her, showing several, surprisingly white, teeth. Presumably his rest had improved his mood.

'Morning, Miss Rothman, - or should that be afternoon? - I didn't expect to see you up yet. I planned to make the announcement this noon.'

Miss Rothman turned to Smith, her eyes ablaze. 'So I didn't need to force myself out bed, eh?' she said through grated teeth. Smith began quaking.

'I...sir, y-you never told-' he turned pleadingly to the Instructor

'That's quite alright; you weren't to know. You can go and have a break. Cup of tea maybe?' he smiled once again, almost beatifically.

Smith wiped his brow, and hastily left the room. Miss Rothman sniffed and turned her back on the Instructor, presumably to return to bed.

'Well, now that you're here you might as well take over. And be quick!'

Miss Rothman snarled, and opened her mouth to retort, but the Instructor was strictly superior to her. He sat down and started whispering to another guard/soldier (this was Anderson- who Miss Rothman had been rude to earlier). She marched over to the microphone, collapsing into the worn-out chair. Taking a deep breath, she reached out to grasp the handle and glanced at the statistics on the computer. Seven more had died. That was still only eleven down. Well, there were two days, and half of one had passed, so technically the game was bang on schedule, but…

_Can't you hurry up?! What kind of a soft class are you?_

She looked at her wristwatch.

_Five…four…three_

She flicked the black switch on the mic to the 'on' position. She quickly looked behind her, tossing her blonde hair. The Instructor gave her the thumbs-up.

'12 o' clock, and I'm glad to see that you're all getting busier…'

* * *

**12:00**

'We have: Boys Number Six, Thirteen and Sixteen; Luciano Estevez, Andrew King, and Daniel Oliver. As for the girls, there are: Numbers Four, Eleven, Sixteen and Twenty; Lucy Edmonton, Belle Orbison, Francesca Simons, and Serena Wells. Seven is an okay number, so keep it up!' Miss Rothman's voice was as unpleasant as ever. Only a few listening people could suppress a shiver of loathing. One of them was Tyson Baxter (Boy #1) who had now crossed off the names and shuffled the sheets so that his map was on top. His pencil hovered as he readied himself to mark down the danger zones.

'Now then, three more danger zones to content with: At 01PM, E-08, at 3PM, L-05, and at 5PM, H-06. That's all for now.' The muffled crackling noise could be heard, and then all went silent.

Seated cross-legged in a dilapidated, unused garage, a little way east of the community hall which he had left some hours ago, Tyson began packing his few belongings- including his weapon, a small tub of cyanide- back into his bag. Zipping it up, he placed it under his head and laid his smooth, flawlessly-shaped head on it. He didn't particularly care about the fact that the filthy, stone cold slab he was lying on was probably not good for his back.

_Like camping in the open air, but indoors with green, oozing pus on the ceiling instead of stars. How delightful this weekend is!_

In truth, Tyson was under constant pressure, and fearful that any moment someone would just enter this room, find him and…kill him. Even if he managed to survive another thirty-six hours, his collar would explode and he'd die anyway, along with everyone else.

He was certain that he was not in a danger zone, so had no reason to switch locations-yet. It was extremely likely that someone would turn up eventually, but…there were still thirty of them out there. He'd definitely run into one of them, besides, rain was still hammering on the roof. Going out in this weather was pointless.

As far as the deceased students went, Tyson was fairly indifferent. He'd never been friends with anyone on that list, so why get upset?

Tyson had taken off from the school, crashing into the bushes in an empty- looking area in order to withdraw his weapon. He rooted through the bag but, to his dismay, he not only didn't have a gun as he'd hoped, but he'd been landed with…poison. This meant that as things stood that he would be absolutely powerless if attacked. Tyson hadn't had time then to mull things over in his mind, as he'd had the misfortune to spot Peter Mortimer rooting around in a thicket nearby- and he was holding a handgun, for fuck's sake. Tyson would have loved to have been able to kill him and take his weapon, but he doubted that even Peter would be thick enough to just eat anything randomly offered to him. Anyway, Peter was doubtlessly playing the game, so approaching him unarmed would have been monumentally stupid. So, creeping out between the trees, Tyson had continued on his way until he'd found this small, desolate garage, just off the main road which ran around the forest and up into the mountainous area.

It really was a miniature, privately-owned garage, where the island's inhabitants had once brought their vehicles for repair. The business had to have closed down years ago, though. The main storage and repair room was thick with dust, grime and probably mice. On top of that, in the office which Tyson had entered upon his arrival, the last service booking was dated as September 10th, 1974. Tyson had, however, only been able to read this by the moonlight streaming through the tiny window, and had not bothered rooting around in the drawers for other diaries. He had a thousand other things to think about.

_I made the right decision coming here, though. _

When the garage had closed down, the owners hadn't exactly emptied the place. Tyson had been able to find several tools that cold be passed off as weapons, but he'd settled on a nice, heavy spanner, which he clung to with his right hand. He hid behind a pile of cardboard boxes in the far corner of the room, where nobody entering by the front door could see him. Not immediately anyway. Unfortunately, there was also no way to escape but… perhaps he could fight his way out.

Incidentally, Tyson had been named after the legendary boxer, Mike, simply because they shared a birthday (different years, obviously). Tyson's father had been a massive boxing fan, and had once been a trophy-winner in the sport, many years ago. The government approved of boxing, since it was a good way for its young army soldiers to build up strength, and vent their frustrations punching bags, rather than on each other. So Tyson had taken boxing lessons from an early age, and proved to be fairly good, though Tyson had no real interest in it. His father was extremely disappointed, but realised that since his only son excelled in other areas, it didn't matter so much. Nonetheless, Roger Baxter would have liked to have had someone to follow in his footsteps, but with his advancing age (he was twenty-five years older than Tyson's mother, who was basically arm candy) he decided against more children. Tyson's mother was more than happy with the way Tyson had turned out. He grew up to be very intelligent and equally handsome, having inherited his mother's looks and his brains…from somewhere else. He performed brilliantly in school, until studying had become lame- though if he ever got out of here he'd have to remedy that; his GCSEs were spread out over the next two years. He had deep blue eyes, and perfectly constructed cheekbones. Unlike the group he hung out with, he didn't need to use cosmetic products at all, thanks to a naturally marble-like complexion. Sadly, he didn't really have the personality to match: he was about as charming and kind as a courgette, so he wasn't all that well-liked in school. Personality, his parents dictated, got you _nowhere._ It wasn't important to endear oneself to anyone in this country, particularly if you had the looks and brains that Tyson did. Or so he had initially believed.

Callum Harrison (Boy #8) and Ewan Stone (Boy #19) were his best friends, and now both of them were dead, so Tyson really did have nobody to turn to.

_Those idiots._

Tyson had a feeling that they had been the ones who had died right at the beginning, when the machine gun had gone off twice. The two of them were _clueless._ Tyson was the sensible one of the three, and he was often annoyed by their reckless attitudes. They could be so immature, particularly Callum, who claimed to be 'in love' all the time. Ewan was a bit different, seeing love- correctly, in Tyson's opinion- as being an 'adult thing' (though apparently he'd expected Kimberley Jones (Girl #7, also dead) not to care whether he 'experimented' with other girls. Tyson had always wondered why they seemed so carefree. Maybe it was because girls fawned all over them, or because they had parents who…who... saw them as kids. That was what it came down to. Tyson could never remember his own parents asking whether he wanted a birthday party (the answer would have been 'no'; Tyson couldn't stand most of the losers in his class, but the offer would have been appreciated). In fact, Tyson had never had anyone over for dinner before, either.

'_Hey, Tyson?' Callum asked one afternoon after Maths (they were separated; Tyson was in the higher group)._

'_Yeah?'_

'_How come we've never been to your house?' This was Ewan; apparently they'd talked this over between themselves, as usual._

_Tyson didn't quite know how to answer. 'Why, do you want to?'_

'_Well,' Callum went on, 'my Mam's been asking why not. You've slept over ours three times in the past fortnight.'_

'_Uh…'_

_He was spared from answering by a female voice behind him, which belonged to Mia Selwyn (Girl #15). 'If I was a boy, I know I'd wanna sleep at your house.'_

_The three boys raised their eyebrows when they turned to look at her. _

'_Wha- oh, yeah, you live on my street…er…what are you talking about?' Tyson asked, in a slightly demanding tone._

'_It's just that…as my Dad said…your Mam's-'_

_Tyson now understood where this was going. How did this girl have the nerve to say that!? 'Hey! Don't you dare talk about…she is not!'_

_Callum had also cottoned on. 'Oh yeah she is. She's a total MILF.' He sniggered infuriatingly._

'_Is she now?' Ewan smirked. 'I haven't actually seen her at Parent's Evening or-'_

_Tyson's face turned scarlet, as the three of them, Mia, Ewan, and Callum all started laughing even more._

That was them all over. If there was ever a spare wheel in the group, it was Tyson. He took all the ridicule for being so proud and cynical. At least that's how it sometimes felt.

But now the two of them were dead. Tyson felt the emptiness in his stomach, as he had done when their names were announced. Had they been together and not bothered to wait for him? No, they wouldn't do that… but I might have done…

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard a noise. He twisted his body around, ending up on all fours, like a cat. Or a rabbit, waiting to be taken as prey.

The noise had come from outside, a couple of metres away from Tyson, though separating him from 'it' was a thick wall of stone. It was definitely _not_ just a rustling in the bushes, but a person. Whoever it was, they were talking. Tyson didn't even dare to breathe as he struggled to hear what was being said.

'So….other side…go in?' was all he could make out, and faintly. There were two of them, both male, he could tell. He grabbed the spanner tightly, and stood up, pulling the strap on his backpack over his shoulder.

_Whoever these guys are, they're going to break in, so I'm out of here!_

Now was his only chance. He could leave via the window in the office, just. That was provided that it opened, of course. If it didn't, he'd have to smash it and run. A few shards of glass couldn't do that much damage, but they'd hurt like hell.

His eyes had adjusted to the dark, and there were various cracks of light coming from the door frame and underneath the shutter. He stepped forward, but felt an odd tingling on his foot. It was a tiny grey mouse, standing on the sole of his shoe, rubbing its face with its tiny pink paws.

_Shit, get off!_

He swung his foot, dislodging the mouse and putting his arm on the nearest structure for support. This, unfortunately, happened to be the piled-up boxes. They weren't carrying a lot of weight, and gave way immediately.

'Ahh! Tyson collapsed onto the heap, surrounded by rags, upholstery, and one or two tyres. He swore internally; hoping that the noise would have deterred the unwanted company.

It didn't.

Tyson had entered the building by pulling up the shutters, which, oddly happened to be unbolted down, before crawling in. He took the easy entry as a good sign; surely nobody would come in and leave the shutter open? Tyson had, with difficulty, managed to find the sliding bolt and seal this entrance, to an extent. This guy however, was taking a somewhat different approach: kicking the door down.

Tyson attempted to scrabble to his feet, shoving the objects to one side but he wasn't quick enough. He'd been wrong to assume that a potential intruder would think up a less attention-drawing method, as the old, rusty door burst off its hinges; apparently it was in dire need of replacement.

All Tyson could do was stand, sweating like crazy, in the centre of the room. His only available obstacle had just toppled over, and all he had for defence was an old spanner, which he lifted up to his eyes as the incoming light blinded him, and illuminated the entire room, showing just how filthy it was. Tyson himself was covered in dust. However, he only had eyes on the character in the doorway, and was still terrified. He noticed the weapon before he could identify the person. A gun, aimed right at him. That was all he needed to know.

'Please! I don't want to hurt you! I-'

'Tyson?!' two boys cried out in unison. Why they were surprised, Tyson couldn't tell. At the present time, he didn't care, as his heart rate quickly began to decrease. He could see both of them clearly now.

'Bryan, Samuel! It's only you…' Tyson lowered the spanner.

_Bryan _(Smith, Boy #18) _and Samuel_ (Rothschild, Boy #17)_. It could have been worse._

Of course they weren't going to kill him. Logic kicked in. Tyson smiled awkwardly at the two of them.

_I should have guessed. Two people playing together?_

Bryan returned the smile, showing his braces. He was the one holding the gun, thankfully. Samuel looked slightly less thrilled; scratching at his messy black hair on his neck nervously. Tyson took his foot out of a box (which he hadn't realised he was standing in) and walked cautiously over to them, his footsteps light.

'So…what do you want?'

* * *

**12:13**

_No! Not anymore! Daniel…Francesca…what do I do now?! Wait; am I in a danger zone?! No, I just checked…Fuck…I'm going mental!_

Ever since he had heard the announcement almost fifteen minutes ago, Christopher Day (Boy #5) had been relaying these thoughts over and over. He couldn't take this pressure. Up until the announcement he'd thought he could find someone to trust, to tell him that everything was going to be okay…but it wouldn't be. Daniel Oliver (Boy #16) was the only student in the class who Christopher could honestly trust with his life, and he'd undoubtedly been with his best female friend Francesca Simons (Girl #16) whose departure had immediately followed Daniel's. Francesca was a nice enough girl, and she wouldn't dare take attempt to attack a boy…she wasn't that stupid…either way, it didn't matter now.

Christopher Day was, like Daniel, someone who was generally a good guy, though he wasn't quite as saintly. He usually spent most of his time either skating in the park or playing computer games; he was a very ordinary boy. He'd even had a 'girlfriend', Nina Fox (Girl #5), though that relationship had only lasted a week, when Nina had tired of him. Apparently she could do better than someone whose idea of a good time was playing _Tekken Tag _Tournament at the arcade. At the time, Chris was only thirteen, so didn't really care. Christopher was friendly with most people in his class, and usually hung out with Daniel, or Joshua Johnson's crew. He didn't know what would happen to him if any of them died. All in all, there was nothing remotely special about Chris's life in comparison to anyone else's. But it was his, and he wouldn't swap it for anything.

_Well, maybe if it meant I could get out of here_ _and be safe again. _

The prospect of killing someone was horrific. Murder was the absolute no-no. Any killer was tormented by hallucinations and nightmares for the rest of their lives, everyone knew that. He would never have told anyone that he believed in a God; he cared about being thought of as cool. Religion was outdated; even the government thought so. Nonetheless, Chris firmly believed in karma.

_God…what if THIS is some kind of payback?!_

Christopher was now sweating heavily, and his head jerked bizarrely as he unsuccessfully tried to choke up tears. No, he'd done nothing wrong; well, not _really _wrong.

Christopher surveyed his surroundings. He hated being outside; he was very urban and the trip to the Isle of Kilbride was the first time he had ever visited the countryside. He was currently standing, somewhat listlessly, underneath the thin, misshapen trees that rose up from the beach and into the forest. He'd had to head directly north from E-08 when it had been given an hour until it went active.

_The bomb in the collar…_

Christopher began shaking at the thought, and slumped to the ground. It was quite a distance (Chris was 6'3") and he fell faster than he'd intended. He felt a sharp pain in his shins and wailed aloud. The rain had eased off to a pleasant drizzle, but Chris was already so soaked that putting his hands into a puddle to heave himself up made no difference to the temperature of his body. Wrapping the sleeve of his hoodie around his hand, he wiped his nose and his eyes.

He checked his compass, hands shaking.

_Okay…north…this way…_

His weapon was a Ruger SP-101- a smart, short-barrelled revolver. 'Cute' was probably how it was described in firearms circles. He held it at full cock, but was careful to aim it away from his body at all times.

The rain began to disappear completely as, gradually; the terrain became steeper as he headed into the mountains. He might have admired the view of the Atlantic, if he'd been a nature person. A body of water was a body of water to him. Of course, he didn't bother looking in that direction anyway: he was too busy checking around for enemies. Seeing nobody at all since he'd left his position near the shore (previously he'd caught a glimpse of, worryingly, Michelle Ashanti (Girl #1) and Peter Mortimer (Boy# 15)). Chris had resolved not to kill anybody unless he absolutely had to, so seeing his classmates from a distance was vital. He had the gun, but that made it all the more likely that someone would kill him when his back was turned. His classmates knew him well enough not to be intimidated by him, but being so tall and very slowly gaining muscle mass (well…he'd been trying to, anyway), he might have appeared very threatening in this game. Although, all the way he continued to cry and wheeze miserably, and initially didn't notice when a gap in the trees first appeared. Then he saw the house, hidden among the trees, looking quite deserted from what he could see. It was a tiny building and honestly, anyone could have been hiding in there. But…

_Anything to get out of this godforsaken forest!_

He approached very cautiously. There was no movement at all from any of the windows but instinctively, he could sense something very ominous. He had reached the house now, and pressed his back against the south-facing wall. Taking several deep breaths, in one swift movement he leapt around the corner and aimed his gun. Nothing happened.

But then it hit him; the acrid smell of what had to be blood.

_No…this can't be…_

Christopher turned around, to return the way he had come. He didn't want to know. Hey, as far as he knew, the guy who lived in this house was a farmer who kept decaying poultry…

It was no good; he'd already seen a slight trickle of the dark crimson substance peering out from the ground, just a few feet away, on the opposite side. This would lead to…bodies.

Chris ran his left hand through his longish brown hair, highlighted blond at the front. Now, though, it was so moist and greasy that it could have been any colour.

_Okay…I'll just go…have a peek. What harm can that do?_

Nothing could have prepared Chris for what he encountered. The instant he turned the corner the disgusting, brown sludge beneath his feet became a thick, red mass that was still unmistakeably spreading. Chris's eyes were fixated on the substance's source.

One of the crumpled corpses was male, and it wore a green jumper and blue jeans. His face couldn't be seen; when he had fallen it has gone straight into the mud. Now, a pool of blood was oozing out from underneath it. If Chris had wanted to look, he'd have seen that the boy's left eyeball hung out slightly, as a result of the brow being blown off and no longer able to contain it.

Christopher moved further forward to the body of the more smartly-dressed girl. She had collapsed on such an angle that her head was resting on a heap of moss, as though using it as a pillow. A single bullet had been fired through her head, causing blood and a slime-like solid (this had to be her brain) to congeal among her hair.

Serena Wells (Girl # 20). With Andrew King (Boy #13).

_No more. No fucking more! _

Chris summoned the strength and scarpered. He re-traced his route as he ran past the cottage and fled back into the woods. Not bothering to avoid the branches, his face sustained several cuts on his way back into E-08. Tears burned onto his face, and as he ran an odd pattern formed whereby white streaks ran from this tear ducts, across his cheeks and behind his ears. All emotions other than fear had disappeared, and his senses had more or less taken their leave of him. Almost. The images of Serena and Andrew refused to leave his mind.

_Screw being noble! If anyone looks in my direction suspiciously then-_

Suddenly he stopped moving.

He'd found someone else, but this one was very much alive. Christopher stood on the very edge of a mound which he'd found himself standing on. He'd probably have continued running and broken a leg if he hadn't caught sight of Harry Hayes (Boy #9) nervously emerging from a thicket at the foot of the bank, carrying an axe. Christopher tensed up, a fresh wave of fear engulfing him.

_Harry…_

Harry Hayes was, to say the least, not Chris's favourite person. He was a juvenile delinquent and Chris had often caught sight of him late at night, hanging around in the skate park with Aidan White (Boy #20) and Peter Mortimer (Boy #15). Chris could have been called a hypocrite: it wasn't as if he himself had _never_ taken drugs or smoked or sprayed graffiti…but he'd never have done those things at _school._ But Harry was a bad person- that much Chris could tell from the way he treated his classmates. Chris had had money stolen and his house keys hidden as some kind of joke, though it had never actually been proved that Harry had been responsible. Intimidation was what it was. Several times, other students attempted to stand up to Harry and the gang, but to no avail. Bullies continued to bully, and that was something that wasn't going to change. Perhaps this was because those who witnessed these kind of confrontational events always turned a blind eye. To a slightly less biased mind it would have been strange seeing Harry as what he was: a helpless child. But not to Chris.

_This…this…_

It suddenly occurred to Chris that Harry Hayes, among other students, was responsible for them all having been brought here. This idea was the product of a perhaps ignorant mind: there were far worse people in other schools than Harry.

_Yes! Now I know what to do!_

Harry hadn't noticed Chris standing almost directly above him, and started moving at a slow jog towards a cluster of trees in across the clearing. His back was wide open.

Chris couldn't afford to think twice. In a panicked state, he raised the gun as Harry was moving, and pulled the trigger for the first time.

A sharp, short crack rang out. The bullet had been aimed at Harry's head but missed completely, finding its place in the ground a foot from Harry's left boot.

He jumped into the air in shock, and turned his head in all directions before finally locating Chris, atop the grassy plateau. The skin underneath his eyes was slack and dark, as a result of sleep deprivation, but his wide eyeballs gave him the look of some kind of panda.

'A-huh! Up here, fucker!' Chris practically bellowed at Harry, leaping off the pinnacle and landing neatly on the lower level, crouching like a martial artist. 'This is all because of you!'

'What!? Shit!' Harry turned back and darted across the open land, running for his life. Callum had much longer legs than Harry and was in hot pursuit.

'Get back here!' Chris hollered, as Harry headed towards the denser forest to the east. Chris pulled back the hammer and fired the Ruger once again. This time, he was firing at a moving target with a rapidly increasing number of obstacles, so a hit was even less likely than the previous shot. Sure enough, as Harry disappeared into the forest, the bullet went sailing into the trunk of a nearby aspen tree.

Nonetheless, Chris still had four bullets, though all reasoning had left him now anyway. He may have been darting through the woods, but Harry was now only a few metres from Chris, and was starting to flag after only a minute. Chris raised his wavering arm and fired another round.

'YAHHHH!'

He'd been aiming for Harry's head, but the bullet had very neatly lodged itself in his right shoulder blade. Harry collapsed mid-run onto a thick patch of heather, rolling over in the process. Chris was standing over him in an instant.

'Ahh, fuck! You-' Harry stared up at Chris, his face a shocking mixture of severe pain and terror. Chris stared him down, vaguely aware of the saliva running down his chin. His own facial expression suddenly altered from hatred to confusion.

_He's…I…_

He lowered the gun, only slightly.

'Chris!'

The cry came from his left, behind him. He whirled around in a panic-stricken state, taking fresh aim at this intruder, who stood only a few metres away between the trees, apparently not alone. Not giving himself time to think, Chris pulled the trigger for a fourth time. Even he didn't see where the bullet flew, but it certainly missed any particular target, if indeed there was one at all. It all happened in an instant, and an instant later, another sound rang out. This one was a combination of a click, swish, and finally, an odd crunch or squelch.

Staring down at his stomach, Chris could make out a rope-like extension protruding like a bizarre umbilical cord. He felt a brief moment of fire burning within him, yet his insides seemed suddenly much less heavy.

_No…I didn't mean it…_

He didn't have time to comprehend what had happened, as he sank to the floor, like a gutted squid.

* * *

**12:32: Surviving Contestants: 30**

**Day 01 January 16****th**** Second Announcement 12:00**

**Luciano Estevez (Boy #6)**

**Height: **173cms

**Weight: **139lbs

**Designated Weapon: **Bowgun

**Time of Departure: **January 16th01:04

**Time of Death:** January 16th07:14

**Duration:** 06H 10M

**Prior Conclusions:** Passive, quiet, and of seemingly average intelligence and athletic prowess (ref: surveillance/Class 10M St. Mary's/Estevez/ sub ref: performance records). Nonetheless, with several potential allies, who knows what could happen? A Portuguese national, a victory could sadly prove counterproductive (ref: Immigration Act 1993/ social unrest). A middling elimination time is predicted, if not earlier.

**Ending Report: **An unfortunate and unanticipated death. On the positive side, subject's death marks the beginning of game participation for another contestant (ref: Girl #10/ Nicholson)

* * *

**Francesca Simons (Girl #16)**

**Height: **163cms

**Weight: **115lbs

**Designated Weapon: **Cutlass

**Time of Departure: **January 16th 00:22

**Time of Death: **January 16th 07:20

**Duration:** 06H 58M

**Prior Conclusions: **Somewhat excluded from and unfamiliar with fellow students (ref: surveillance/Class 10M St. Mary's/Simons), subject also displays intelligent albeit abrasive behaviour. A relatively new student, her apparent lack of familiarity within Class 10M could mean that eventual game participation is possible, and a late elimination is predicted.

**Ending Report: **Second female student to die; we have yet another potential female survivor down. Disappointing, but of the deaths so far, the boys are still heavily outweighing the girls.

* * *

**Daniel Oliver (Boy #16)**

**Height: **166cms

**Weight: **113lbs

**Designated Weapon: **Grenades

**Time of Departure: **January 16th 00:20

**Time of Death: **January 16th 07:34

**Duration:** 07H 14M

**Prior Conclusions: **A naïve and optimistic young man, subject will doubtlessly attempt to seek out and form a group. Well-liked if rather hyperactive (ref: surveillance/Class10M St. Mary's/Oliver), chances of competing at all, let alone winning, are slim to nil.

**Ending Report: **A surprising amount of resistance, but a tragically short time in the competition was evidently fated. Disappointing, as subject could have been an interesting contestant.

* * *

**Lucy Edmonton (Girl #4)**

**Height: **160cms

**Weight: **121lbs

**Designated Weapon: **Golf Club

**Time of Departure: **January 16th 00:58

**Time of Death: **January 16th 09:20

**Duration:** 08H 22M

**Prior Conclusions: **Attractive, gifted and popular, subject has evidently established strong relationships at school (ref: surveillance/Class10M St. Mary's/Edmonton). An almost archetypical model student, life had thus far been very kind towards subject. This lack of 'real-world' experience will probably prove her downfall in the competition. On the other hand, it could lead to a sense of superiority and drive to survive.

**Ending Report: **Subject completely lost control, and her choice of ally was certainly unexpected. One of the many to lose her sense to _Survivor. _

* * *

**Belle Orbison (Girl #11)**

**Height: **159cms

**Weight: **102lbs

**Designated Weapon: **Umbrella

**Time of Departure: **January 16th 00:02

**Time of Death: **January 16th 11:27

**Duration:** 11H 25M

**Prior Conclusions: **A diagnosed insomniac and suspected sedative addict (ref: prescribed benzodiazepine). If subject survives long enough, side-effects of substance deprivation may kick in. A spacey and immature personality, subject's performance is difficult to predict, but a win is still very unlikely.

**Ending Report: **Consequences of substance withdrawal certainly occurred. It would have been interesting to see how other players would have handled her.

* * *

**Serena Wells (Girl #20)**

**Height: **168cms

**Weight: **99lbs

**Designated Weapon: **Mace

**Time of Departure: **January 16th00:38

**Time of Death: **January 16th11:41

**Duration:** 11H 03M

**Prior Conclusions: **One of a large group of friends in Class 10M, subject also appears to be pragmatic and logical (ref: performance records). Game participation is unlikely, as subject does not exhibit any real signs of emotional weakness (ref: surveillance/Class 10M St. Mary's/Wells) or vendetta against any classmates. Generally: not really one to watch.

**Ending Report: **Dying in the manner that she did, subject acted in an uncharacteristically careless way. It can be said that her decision to join up with a single person only contributed to her downfall.

* * *

**Andrew King (Boy #13)**

**Height: **171cms

**Weight: **126lbs

**Designated Weapon: **Fencing Foil

**Time of Departure: **January 16th 00: 08

**Time of Death: **January 16th 11:42

**Duration:** 11H 34M

**Prior Conclusions: **Somewhat emotionally weak and submissive (ref: psychological assessment/ sub ref: childhood therapy), subject's chances of winning are fairly low; however competing as a result of fear is a distinct possibility. Subject is expected to spend the majority of the game in hiding, or join up with friends. Either way, subject will almost certainly break down at some point.

**Ending Report: **A poor attempt at evasiveness and defence, a lack of verbal protestation (ref: collar microphones/ transmissions) seems odd. An apparent lack of interest in finding him from other students remains intriguing, too.


	13. Uncertainty

**January 16****th**** 12:40**

Sebastian Hall (Boy #7) looked at his watch. It had now been about ten minutes since the last gunshot rang out across the island. He and Anne-Marie Hunt (Girl #6) had been taking refuge in the end house of this terrace for over six hours now, having been here when both announcements had been made. So far, none of Sebastian's good friends had had their names read out, but since whoever had been firing that gun seemed to have stopped, Sebastian was fairly certain that someone else had just died. Tears ran down his face, and he was sweating once again. There could be nothing worse than this. He knew, deep down inside him, that he himself would be on the list read out by Miss Rothman at some point. Perhaps even in a few hours' time. The thought made a shiver run down his back. He had the machine gun that Kimberley Jones (Girl #7) had left behind after her death, in addition to the Taurus PT24/7 which he carried at all times but…

_I'm too stupid to win this thing. Too thick and too weak. _

All hopes of finding any friends were still present. Mia Selwyn (Girl #15) and Steven Wilkinson (Boy #21) were still alive, and Anne-Marie had promised that she would help him find them, and if not them, someone smarter who could think of a way out- there had to be some way.

_Maybe that's part of the game. Maybe they let you go if you can find a way out._

It could probably be said that Sebastian was naturally optimistic. Twelve hours ago, when he had tried hitting on Miss Rothman, anyone could have told him that she was way out of his league, if they had been in a normal situation. Sebastian never saw what was wrong with aiming for something likely unattainable: after all, what was the worst that could happen? He'd picked up this attitude from his father, a deviant who _hated _the Socialist State that the United Kingdom had become. The Hall family had once been prime examples of High Society- that it didn't matter what kind of a person you were; if you had money, then you were set for life. However, after the Movement, the Halls had suddenly become class enemies, and theirs became strictly a life of depravity and materialism. Many cheered at this. At the time, 1979, the country was drowning in debt and unemployment- nobody had cash to throw away. The new regime was successful, and that was the fault of the left-wing lunatics, Sebastian's father always said.

Sebastian dreaded to think what would happen to his dad if he, Sebastian, became a victim of _Survivor._ Of course, he already was in a way, but he wasn't dead. Sebastian Hall Snr. would probably end up in prison, or more likely dead after storming into a local police station brandishing his precious Webley Hawk Mark III rifle- one of the last ever produced, just before the Movement- wanting revenge.

_Dad never was very quiet._ Sebastian was no more subtle, so the apple didn't fall far from the tree.

Some people, though, were different. The idea of a person being different inside than what they really were was quite frightening to Sebastian. One such person was sitting with him in this very room.

He turned to Anne-Marie, who was sitting on the armchair next to him. She was gazing listlessly out of the window at the sea, looking forlorn, but somehow fierce at the same time. At school, Anne-Marie had always seemed shy and unhappy, yet she had not once cried during the time Sebastian had been with her. Nor did she speak much. For some reason though, Sebastian felt as if he could trust her. Perhaps it was because he had briefly, naively, taken a nap on the sofa, giving Anne-Marie the perfect opportunity to kill him, or at least abandon him, taking his belongings. Of course; she hadn't, and had let him sleep until she stirred him before the second announcement. Most of the time, she treated him quite disdainfully- but she remained with him. Sebastian was grateful, but still failed to understand. The silence between them was becoming unbearable, so Sebastian attempted to provoke conversation.

'How many's that?' Sebastian wondered out loud.

Anne-Marie pursed her lips. 'What do you mean?'

_God, she's annoying. She knows what I'm talking about._

'You know what I'm talking about,' he replied. 'How many have died?'

Anne-Marie gawped at him. Then, she threw her head back, staring at the ceiling.

'We just crossed the names off. Why don't you have a look at the sheet?'

'I didn't write it on mine.'

'Why not?' Her voice was irritated, and Sebastian decided not to further her foul mood while she held onto the revolver. Unlike Sebastian, Anne-Marie was taking her anger out on everything around her, including him. When she ate her lunch, she attacked the bread with her teeth as though it has done something to offend her. It probably didn't help that she hadn't slept yet, and had spent a large part of this morning defending the house while Sebastian got some shut-eye. It hadn't actually been that long since Anne-Marie had woken from her drugged slumber, but she had spent last night running around the Isle of Kilbride, taking weapons out of the bodies of deceased classmates.

Sebastian didn't reply immediately, pausing for thought.

'Well…I didn't think we'd need two copies. There are two of us, so-'

'Fine!' Anne-Marie thrust her neck forwards, and leapt up of her chair. She crawled over to her daypack, which was in the centre of the room. Unzipping it, she said:

'It's not like I've got any tampons or shit like that in here. You could have just looked without asking.' She got out the map and the student list.

'Right,' she began counting. 'There's eleven of us dead. You could have just done that in your head. Or are you too thick to remember their names?'

_Are you? _Sebastian thought, since she wasn't attempting to recite them without the list in front of her.

'I meant, since the guns went off. It might be more than one person.' Sebastian had only just considered that, and the thought made him all the more earnest to get out there and _look_ for people.

'How would I know?' Anne-Marie looked weary, and sighed. She sank to the floor and looked at Sebastian miserably. 'I know what you're thinking. You want to find your mates and…I dunno…try and escape? But I can't do that, Sebastian- I think they might-'

'No way, Anne-Marie!' Sebastian stood up, glaring down at the girl's sorrowful face. 'You said you would help me! Besides, what else can you do?' He was now seething mad. He should have anticipated this, really. Staying in the same house for a whole morning may have been a giveaway to Anne-Marie's lack of enthusiasm when it came to joining forces with other people. 'A-anyway, why didn't you tell me if you didn't want me with you?'

'I do!' Anne-Marie leapt up and stared him down, her eyes initially fraught with fury. Sebastian was slightly overwhelmed as she kept glaring at him for a few seconds until he sat back down. Then her face took on a different expression, one of embarrassment and shame. Anne-Marie turned her back and faced into the adjoining the dining room, which was completely devoid of accessories; it just contained a polished wooden table and chairs. The owners had probably taken anything of real value.

_Nothing more than what's needed. Totally basic._

Anne-Marie then raised her head slightly and looked across the room until she saw her own, faint reflection in the window. It would only grow fainter as the day wore on, until it would eventually disappear. Anne-Marie waited for Sebastian to respond to her.

'Why?'

Anne-Marie turned around again. She now had a single tear trickling down her flushed cheek. She couldn't think of the right words at the time, so she shrugged her shoulders instead. Seating herself in the armchair again, she turned her eyes to the empty fireplace.

Sebastian wasn't sympathetic. This was clearly some kind of guilt-trip, though for what, he didn't know. 'Don't mess me about! If you have a thing for me or-'

'A _thing _for you?! What the fuck? You think I wanna spend my last days with you all to myself? Are you serious?!' Anne-Marie wrinkled her nose in genuine disgust, and for one horrible moment Sebastian actually thought she was going to turn the revolver in his direction and kill him then. The moment passed however, and Sebastian merely felt more puzzled, and slightly irritated.

'Then what? Do you just like bossing me about or being nasty to me? Coz that's all you've done so far.' After a pause during which Anne-Marie didn't reply, he continued. 'Well, you know what? I'm going out there and I'm going to escape and you'll be left here until someone comes to kill you. Is that what you want? I don't need you, anyway.' Having said that, he still had no idea what the hell he was going to do when he did set off. Sebastian expected Anne-Marie to make some comment, to say _something_,but she didn't.

Sebastian picked up the daypack. 'I'm going now. This is your last chance.'

No answer.

He unzipped the bag and tossed the pistol inside. He picked up the machine gun, which was lying on the floor. He hadn't read the manual (having forgotten to look through Kimberley's bag), so he wasn't completely sure how to use it. However, it was inarguably more powerful than the Taurus.

'I'm taking both these guns. You can keep the poker and the other gun,' he said snidely, before finally marching towards the door. 'I'm leaving.'

No answer.

'Anne-Marie? Are you listening?'

Nothing. Zero response.

Sebastian took one last look at the room. It was almost bare, and had a cold, unwelcoming feel about it, which may have been linked to the girl sitting staring out of the window, refusing to look at her companion.

_Thank God I'm leaving._

He opened the door and moved into the passageway, and past the staircase. Earlier, he had been upstairs just to check that nobody was hiding in the building. He suddenly stopped, remembering something.

_We came in by the _back _door. Fuck it!_

He was forced to turn tail and head back into the living room to get through to the kitchen. In the midst of all the emotional pain he was going through, he could still feel a shred of pride, which was unusual for him. So he grabbed the doorknob (he'd slammed the door shut in his tantrum) and reopened the door.

He only glanced once at Anne-Marie, who maintained the same seating position. She'd obviously realised why Sebastian had returned to the room, possibly as early as when he'd left it. That thought made him all the more annoyed with her. Taking no further notice of her, he stormed over to the kitchen door, and readied his weapon in case of an ambush. He entered the room (which was, in contrast to the others, fairly full- then again, it would be senseless to rip out a kitchen unit. The fridge was gone, though) and headed for the back door, which he and Anne-Marie had forced open. They hadn't been able to seal it very well; they'd only placed the oven in front of it which would, hopefully have been enough to at least alert the two of them of another's presence. It was an old-fashioned gas stove, and Sebastian would have difficulty moving it alone. There wasn't a lot to actually cling to, so he had to simply wrap his arms around it and pull. As he did, it made a grating noise across the lino, which had filthy black tracks of soot and grime where it had been pushed across some hours previously.

'Maybe you're right'. Anne-Marie's voice came quietly from the living room, and it sounded oddly constrained. Sebastian didn't know what she was talking about. He stopped what he was doing, and inquisitively poked his head around the door.

She was sobbing silently, her mouth twisting. She looked up at Sebastian who had now fully entered the room. He remembered how, quite briefly, Anne-Marie had smiled at him when she had assured him that they would find Mia and Steven, and how he had seen her laugh for the first time eve when she told him how 'gormless' he had looked after she'd taken the steel poker out of Kimberley Jones' body. Right now, although she was crying, that same softness to her face returned. He couldn't stand watching her cry. He saw girls at school do it on a day-to-day basis but Anne-Marie's helpless shaking sobs were entirely justified.

And so, before he knew it, he found himself right by Anne-Marie's side, patting her on the shoulder, opening his tear ducts once again himself. It was a minute later when something else occurred to Sebastian.

'Anne-Marie?' he asked, narrowing his brow.

'Yeah?' she turned to face him. She was rapidly regaining her composure, and now the redness was appearing around her dark eyes. She smiled awkwardly.

'What did you mean when you just said: "maybe you're right."?'

She cast her eyes to the floor. 'I…I think you were right, saying that I wanted to be stay with you to boss you about. I mean, I _don't_ enjoy being annoyed with you, but I…it's hard to explain. I think I just need you because I…have nobody else. I'm always the one who nobody notices; the one who never does anything good. When I met you outside that hall at the beginning I was scared. I didn't know what to do, so I settled on you for company, I suppose. I almost ditched you after we found Kim and Ewan.'

Sebastian felt slightly hurt: he obviously was just being used, and Anne-Marie saw nothing special in him at all. Hell, he wasn't upset that she didn't fancy him- he certainly didn't like her in that way. She wasn't ugly, but she wasn't pretty or much fun either. He replied, 'then why-?'

'Why didn't I? Well, I dunno really. We found this place and it seemed like a good place to stay.' She shifted, slightly uncomfortable.

Sebastian was indignant. 'So, what? Did you just want me to protect you until…?' he trailed off, not quite knowing how to finish his sentence without picturing his brain being blown out.

Anne-Marie's expression changed again. It had now returned to the serious and hard look that Sebastian had grown accustomed to. She practically sneered: 'What, a bit like you were going to use me to find your fucking mates? Don't try and make out you care about me.'

Sebastian was shocked into silence for two reasons: Firstly, he only just realised how hypocritical he was being by accusing Anne-Marie of anything sinister, particularly since she (unlike him) had already proven herself by guarding him as he slept. Secondly; while it was true that previously to this game, Sebastian had few feelings of any kind for Anne-Marie, even then he would never have said that he _didn't care _about her. He'd also liked to have thought that, if she had the choice, Anne-Marie would always have wanted him to survive rather than die: in other words, care about him as a casual acquaintance, if nothing else.

'I-I _do _care about you, Anne-Marie. Don't be stupid.' Then, as a way to cheer her up slightly, he added: 'That's _my_thing.'

Anne-Marie laughed half-heartedly. She paused for a second, and then asked; 'So, why don't we go and look for Steve?'

For a second, Sebastian thought the words had slipped off his own tongue without his knowledge. He looked at Anne-Marie, who smiled sadly, as though she had reluctantly signed up for something she might well regret.

'Really? You'll really come with me?!' Sebastian had almost given up hope, but now felt surprisingly elated that Anne-Marie had agreed to join him.

'Yeah…I mean, I don't really want to wait around here for someone to come and get me. I'd have to kill them…and I don't want to do that.' She loosened her grip on the revolver she was holding, and said no more. Sebastian hadn't even thought of actually _killing_ someone, and he could only envision one or two people in the class who he thought would actually try it (unfortunately, neither Kimberley Jones nor Ewan Stone were one of them, yet one had clearly attacked the other). He didn't have time to ponder on whether or not it would be acceptable to allow a girl to put herself in danger on his behalf, however, as their conversation was interrupted by the sound of yet another gunshot.

**12:58**

In a heavily wooded area at the foot of the mountain, roughly a hundred metres east of zone E-08- which was about to activate in two minutes- three of the remaining sixteen female students had suddenly been alarmed into silence.

Zoe Wakefield (Girl #19) stood stock still, glaring at the thick area of thorny bushes ahead of her. She held her lupara (it was a modified Mossberg 500) up to her shoulder, using her left hand to pull the pump handle back and reload the barrel, having fired the gun only moments earlier. The bullet had disappeared into the thicket, along with the head of the person she'd fired at. Zoe's index finger hovered on the trigger.

'Zoe! What are you doing?!' Rachel Underwood (Girl #18) shrieked and took a step backwards, while Olivia Thompson (Girl #17) grabbed Zoe's right wrist and stepped in front of her, the barrel of the gun pointed right at her chest. Olivia's narrow eyes looked directly into Zoe's, which were fraught with panic. 'Zoe,' she spoke firmly, but with an undertone of shaking in her voice, 'did you just-'

'Aidan White (Boy #20)!' she spat out each syllable. 'He was over there! Look!' She lowered her gun and pointed at the overgrown hedgerows which made up the dead end to the path which the three girls were following. Of course, Aidan was no longer there. Zoe, who'd been looking for any possible signs of movement, quickly turned to her friends when neither of them spoke.

'What? Don't you believe me?' She stared in amazement: their shifty looks told her that they didn't.

'Zoe…' Olivia began, a familiar, patronising expression forming on her face.

_There it is again! This isn't fair- stupid cow._

'Don't talk to me like that!' Zoe snarled. 'Aidan White was staring at me from that bush and then he darted back inside. Why would I make something like that up?' She then looked beseechingly at Rachel. Rachel was the tallest of the three girls, and the least feminine-looking, but during her time on the island, she had cried almost perpetually. She never had been in the least bit tough, and she wasn't an academic girl like Olivia, or sporty and pretty like Zoe, so she didn't have a lot of confidence.

_But I can always rely on her…_

'You believe me, right? Rachel?' Zoe was practically pleading with her. It may have been very cold outside, but the redness in Zoe's face was obviously down to a desperate determination. Rachel had never seen anything dressed head to toe (Zoe even wore a fuchsia headband) look so fearsome. Particularly since Zoe was considerably shorter than her. Rachel's tears temporarily ceased, and she'd gotten over the shock of Zoe suddenly firing the lupara. She wiped the salty water away from underneath her nose and around her mouth, trying to choose her words carefully.

'I-It's not that I…I know you-you're not _lying_, but…' Rachel trailed off, unable to finish. She looked down at the ground, as Zoe let out a grunt of disbelief, and opened her mouth to retort. Before she could, however, Olivia pushed her way between her two friends, who were now inches apart, and stared Zoe down.

'I think what Rachel's _trying _to say is that you're acting paranoid. You have been _all_ day. It's like you're certain that everywhere we go, someone's waiting to get us!'

'That's only because-'

'No, Zoe.' Olivia's voice had broken, and she shook her head. 'I thought I could put up with it, but this is the first time you've actually fired the gun, you know? It must be that ever since…twelve…' she couldn't finish, and her voice was to be replaced with a gentle sobbing. She was probably referring to the fact that at noon the deaths of two members of their group, Serena Wells (Girl #20) and Lucy Edmonton (Girl #3) had been announced. Prior to that, Zoe had still been the most alert, but now the full reality of being on _Survivor _must be getting to her.

Lucy Edmonton had been the head girl of their clique. This seemed to occur naturally, since she was so beautiful (seconded only to Nina Fox (Girl #5) in their class) and lovely. Serena Wells also hung out with them, though it seemed that she preferred to be in a mixed-gender group. She'd gone out with Andrew King (Boy #13, who was also dead), a guy who formed a part of the 'big posse' (roughly a third of the class) of girls and boys- the biggest group in the class.

Zoe remained quiet. It was true that she had been deeply upset to hear of her friends' deaths, but she _had_ seen Aidan. She couldn't understand why neither Rachel nor Olivia thought it was so impossible. Aidan's name had not been read out yet, so he was still alive, and besides, the girls had to run into someone eventually. There were students scattered across the island, for God's sake.

_And not just living ones…_

Zoe continued looking at Olivia and Rachel, who were clinging onto each other for comfort, with Olivia's face buried in Rachel's GAP hoodie. Rachel looked over Olivia's head at Zoe and began to speak, presumably because Zoe hadn't attempted to argue her case.

'Z-Zoe, do you th-think we're all going to die? N-not everyone is-'

'Bullshit!' Zoe bellowed at her lanky, dark friend. Zoe may have been paranoid, but Rachel was beginning to puzzle her, or rather, her behaviour was. On the one hand, Rachel was bawling like a baby (she was usually so quiet) and yet here she was trying to make out that, hey, not everyone is playing, so therefore they'd all be fine- right?

Rachel released Olivia, who and the two of them glared resentfully at Zoe, who immediately regretted having shouted at Rachel, who was clearly fairly frail. She hadn't meant to sound so horrible. Olivia wiped away her tears, and raised her eyebrows, as though expecting an apology. Zoe looked at Rachel and said, somewhat awkwardly:

'I only meant…that obviously people _are_ playing, and I don't know why you're trying to make out that they aren't.'

'You didn't let me finish!' Rachel snapped. 'I was going to say that not everyone is as pessimistic as me.' The thought of dying must have flashed through her mind, as she went into a sudden fit of blinking but was unable to keep her composure, and the tears began to flood quickly once again.

Olivia spoke up again, and this time she had a look of contempt in her eyes. 'Well done, Zoe. I hope you're proud of yourself. Now apologise properly to Rachel or…' a sour expression formed on her face. Zoe, tired of being victimised, sniffed noisily and responded.

'Or what, are you going to kill me? With that thing?' She pointed jeeringly at the trowel Olivia had been issued with, which she held in her left hand. Rachel had been given a hatchet, but…that would still be no use against the lupara, which Zoe had already demonstrated that she was proficient with

Olivia Thompson didn't often raise her voice. She always wore a condescending, superior-looking expression on her otherwise pointed, slightly pinched face. The fact that she was so serious and moral actually made her quite endearing at school, because it was rare to meet such an old-fashioned teenager. She'd even once said that she intended to join the Communist Party of Great Britain when she was old enough. Anyway, currently, she was clearly consumed by rage. 'Stop behaving like a fucking child!'

Zoe snarled, and then laughed. 'Well, if I'm a child, then I'd hate it if _you _were my mother.'

Olivia looked completely confused by this statement, and looked as though she was trying to figure out what the hell Zoe was talking about. Rachel, however, merely shook her head frantically at Zoe, as though begging her not to raise the issue.

'What is _that _supposed to mean?' Olivia asked.

'You know exactly what it means. You think you're so good, but you were perfectly happy to leave the others back at the hall weren't you!?' Zoe now looked quite smug, as though she'd won some private argument.

Olivia bit her lip. What Zoe was saying was the truth. When she had left the hall, Olivia had not originally intended to wait to join up with anyone; however, she changed her mind after noticing an anxious-looking Samuel Rothschild (Boy #17) hiding crouched behind a tree, presumably waiting for his good friend Bryan Smith (Boy #18). Olivia had pretended not to notice him, but her presumption was confirmed when Bryan left the school and Samuel revealed himself. The two boys then ran off somewhere. At this point, Olivia decided that she, too, would not face this hell on her own. It wasn't as though she could play the game with a trowel anyway. So, she had hidden in a cluster of bushes from which she could see the building in profile. When a miserable Rachel Underwood had exited, Olivia had called her over. The two had then waited four minutes for Zoe, having let Ewan Stone (Boy #19) pass by. However…

'I…I've already explained that.' Olivia replied calmly, 'we couldn't risk waiting while Aidan came out. Besides,' she added abruptly, 'you could have waited if you wanted to. But you didn't.' Of course, Olivia could never trust Aidan White. He was evil. Well, maybe not _evil_, but he hung out with that lunatic, Peter Mortimer (Boy #15). Olivia knew that they were behind most of the crime that went on in their class, and she knew that bullies would relish the opportunity to _kill_ their previous victims in school. This was why she hadn't berated Zoe for supposedly trying to kill Aidan only minutes ago. The latter part of her rant was also undeniable. If either Rachel or Zoe had truly been desperate to make contact with someone, then they could have told her. Instead they'd been too busy getting all agitated to even realise what they were doing. Aside from the odd panic attack from Zoe, the two girls had followed Olivia's instructions and advice completely. They knew how smart she was, and this was why they had survived this long. The three of them had, thus far, only managed this much. They'd hidden in a house in an isolated cottage in H-03 until a few hours ago, before it had been made a forbidden zone. There, they had gotten some rest, with Zoe being the only one to actually fall asleep (apparently, she hadn't slept through the night of the 14th-15th, though she didn't say why). Now, though, the three of them were at a loss at what they should do. They hadn't come across anyone, so had not had the opportunity for confrontation. Olivia had decided to head up into the mountainous are simply because 'it would be less dangerous' than wandering through the flatter, southern side of the island, which was likely to be full of bodies.

'So, Olivia, are we going to try to find the rest of them or not? Serena and Lucy are already dead, but there's still…' Zoe tried to think. Who could she trust, really? There was Megan Young (Girl #21). Of course, there was Elizabeth Pullman (Girl #13), who happened to be deaf. She was a bit unusual, but Zoe liked her; the fact that she was deaf had never-!

_Oh. My. God._

It had not occurred to Zoe exactly what this meant until now. Elizabeth wouldn't be able to hear the announcements. She could be in a danger zone right now!

'OliviaLiz'sdeafandshecan't-!!'

'She'll be fine; she…must be with someone.' So, Olivia had already come to this realisation. As she said this, Olivia glanced at Rachel, whose face had turned white. 'Look, she left before any of us. She's not stupid enough to just go off by herself. She must have waited for someone. Or someone waited for her.'

'Who?!' This was Rachel and Zoe simultaneously. Olivia was forced to admit that she didn't know. This was becoming unbearable. The three girls had not shifted position since Zoe had fired into the bushes, and this would obviously have attracted attention. Olivia was, in truth, sincerely regretting joining up with both Rachel and Zoe.

'Well…let's get going.' Olivia moved ahead, about to make a right at the end of the dirt track, and continue on into the mountains. She made about six shuffling noises as her converse shoes brushed the path when she realised that Zoe and Rachel weren't following her. She turned back, and recoiled in shock when the smoke rising up into the clear blue sky caught her eye. Someone from not far south was enticing the other students to them with a fire. Rachel and Zoe had already noticed it, and knew what it was, though they had to crane their necks to see over the canopy.

'Look at that, Olivia!' For some reason, Rachel's voice, so utterly disparaging previously, was now full of hope. She brushed her brown fringe back, as though her sight could be playing tricks on her.

'Yeah...it could be Liz or someone who knows a way out of this shit!' Zoe's face was initially wary, but a look of determination returned to her face. Olivia's internal reaction was almost the exact opposite. Her instincts told her that this person was not a friend, and that any minute now, she'd hear gunshots as some naïve kid wandered into their midst. Of course, her curiosity was present, but it would have to be contained.

'Olivia?' Rachel had noticed the blank expression on Olivia's face; it was clear that she was less than thrilled with this development. 'What's wrong? I know that it'll be dangerous but…we've got the gun. It could be our only chance. Please.'

Olivia shifted slightly, unsure of what to do. She knew in her heart that this game did not favour those in groups…not ultimately (of course, here was the irony, since she had created this situation) She could see that this _was_ her only chance- to survive. This would only be possible, sadly, alone. However, she could never kill her friends. Never. Even if they were a pair of useless idiots sometimes.

_But isn't letting them run off and get killed exactly the same morality? _

'I…I don't think that it's such a good idea.' She mumbled, and backed away from Rachel and Zoe, both of whom looked at her uneasily.

'Leave her.' Zoe stated coldly, and turned her back, flinging her perfectly straight red hair. This resulted in her facing Rachel. 'We don't need her. All she's going to do is stab us in the back. You saw how she was when we were talking about Elizabeth. It was like she didn't even care.'

'No!' Rachel and Olivia cried. Olivia genuinely was stung badly by Zoe's lack of tact but couldn't quite believe that Zoe actually thought that about her. 'Of course I care!' Olivia retorted passionately, 'that's why I'm warning you off; whoever's built that fire there is a killer!'

Rachel felt herself torn between Zoe and Olivia once again. She knew what she wanted to do, and that was to meet up with the student calling out to the others. Even if it was a trap…which Rachel knew was a possibility, something had to be done. She herself could never think up a way out, but wandering around was not the answer. She didn't have the heart to tell this to Olivia, who had put her life on the line to help her right at the beginning.

'Olivia…' Rachel reached out her hand in a bizarre gesture of goodwill. Her eyes, however, were brimming with tears and full of despair. 'I…I have to do this, Olivia. It could be the only way…'

'I-I understand.' Olivia's face was crumpled up. She stood all alone, and although she was in fact only a few metres from the other two, it felt to Olivia as though it might as well have been a mile. She continued, 'but you-you don't know t-that it's safe…' she took some deep breaths and then composed herself, slightly. 'Zoe?'

'Yeah?' Zoe had turned back to Olivia, and her voice was now full of concern and anxiety. Zoe had a cute, freckled face, and she looked slightly too young to be participating in this game. Olivia acknowledged that this was probably the last time she would see her. As such, she decided to be just a bit kinder than usual. After all, although they were very different, Olivia did, technically, consider Zoe her best friend.

'I'm sorry, Zoe. I didn't take your feelings into consideration.'

'Don't be stupid; I said that you would kill us! I'm the one who should be-'

'Please- I can't be bothered with formalities', she laughed nervously. 'But I…I can't come with you- Rachel…' The tall girl finally sprinted towards Olivia and enveloped her in another bear hug, closely followed by Zoe. The three of them stood like this, sobbing, for at least five minutes, but they didn't care that they were sitting ducks at the moment. Eventually, the emotional moment was broken, unsurprisingly, by Olivia.

'Okay,' she began in a business-like voice. 'I've got an idea.'

'What? You've decided to come with us…?' Rachel's hopes were dashed as Olivia shook her head.

'No…and I feel bad for asking this but…why not send a smoke signal? If it really is a friend, then I can come and join you, can't I?' She looked at the two girls, whose faces lit up. Rachel smiled happily.

'Yeah! So…I guess this isn't goodbye, then?' Her eyes, however, had a certain emptiness about them. Perhaps she knew, deep down, that Olivia was probably right. Zoe, on the other hand, showed no signs of such reluctant acceptance. Olivia wasn't surprised; Zoe never did have such a strong sense of perspective.

'Well, then…I know you don't want to risk your life, Olivia….but we'll be fine! I know inside that we've got to do this.' She turned and looked over her shoulder. The smoke was probably coming from less than half a mile away; they'd have to climb or walk around the lower-lying hills, but they'd be there in no time. Zoe was definitely optimistic.

'Promise me you'll come.' This was Rachel. Her eyes looked directly into Olivia's. Her fearful appearance suddenly returned. Olivia smiled.

'I swear.' She held up her hand, which she then proceeded to fondle her shoulder-length mousy hair with. She'd never had a brilliant poker-face, and it was unclear whether either Rachel or Zoe noticed this telltale gesture.

_Looks like they did._

Rachel and Zoe's faces assumed neutral expressions. A second later, Rachel looked disappointedly towards the ground, whereas a flash of anger crossed Zoe's face. She smiled cheerlessly at Olivia, before turning her head. Nothing more needed to be said.

'Let's go, Rachel,' Zoe pulled her friend's arm and began to walk slowly away, off the beaten track and into the dense woodland. Rachel started to swing her head back and forth in a panicky fashion, like a child being pulled away from a toy store window. Finally, she broke free of Zoe and rushed up to Olivia, her wet lips brushed Olivia's cheeks. She mumbled 'goodbye', and immediately turned to go following at Zoe's heel, like an obedient dog. Olivia didn't say anything in return, but spun around to move in the opposite direction. Perhaps she was heading into the mountains.

Rachel then cast her eyes at Zoe. The shorter, more attractive girl's cheeks were red, tears falling down them. She did not look back. Rachel noticed this and was suddenly consumed by a desire to cling on to Olivia, who had looked so helpless. She'd already heard her quick footsteps darting away, and sure enough, as she briefly paused and looked back, Olivia Thompson had disappeared, as though she were never there.

_Never to be seen again…?_

**13:21: Surviving Contestants: 30 **

**Author's note:**

**What?!?! No deaths?! Well, I've decided to concentrate more on character development, as has been suggested to me. Do any of you think that this is a good idea? To be honest, this chapter was a real bore to write (and read, probably), since I find it more interesting to explore one character at a time. In truth some of the characters that have already died were basically fodder, as in the original BR, but I realise now that nobody is going to care who wins if a character appears and then dies in the same chapter. Oh, and this is NOT meant to be snide in any way, but I appreciate ANY reviews, so as long as I know even one person is reading then I'll continue. **

**And, I'll try to make the deaths a bit gorier…if that'll be appreciated.**


	14. Unexpected Company

**January 16****th**** 13:27**

Leo Davison (Boy #4) lay spread-eagled on the double bed gazing up at the ceiling, taking deep breaths as he began to sob quietly, without fear of being overheard. After he had attacked Belle Orbison (Girl #11) and left her body lying face down in the mud, he'd abandoned his plan to coerce Anne-Marie Hunt (Girl #6) and Sebastian Hall (Boy #7) into giving him a gun, and fled the scene, taking refuge in the main residential area of the island, where around three dozen houses had been built at fairly irregular intervals. The fear of being killed wasn't completely eating away at him, as it was other 'contestants', but he was frightened enough to be making stupid rash decisions, and not thinking them through. The house which he had broken into was part of a street, and he'd chosen it completely at random, since there was no point guessing which houses were likely to be occupied. Not that he bothered to try and investigate before he barged in. In fact, staying here for too long could well be fatal, and it hadn't really been wise of Leo to enter at all. Aside from the fact that he'd had to force the back door open (leaving one of the hinges broken and hence Leo hadn't been able to fully close it, thereby making entry obvious to anyone who had a mind to enter), Leo would hardly be able to 'pretend no-one was home'. His fingerprints were literally all over this (the house). Plus, after two murders- it didn't matter how many euphemisms he thought of, that was what they were- Leo still only had Jonathan Cray (Boy #3)'s carving knife, so going against someone with a gun would prove somewhat redundant, but right now Leo didn't care about that.

_I didn't mean to kill her._

He sat up sharply, and curled himself up, covering the bed's duvet with mud and…blood. He was filthy. His entire body, head to toe, was plastered with gunk which he hadn't yet bothered to wash off. His hair, usually a dark blonde, was now closer to black, and it was only just beginning to peel unstuck from his head, having been so wet.

He had cursed himself a dozen times. How could he possibly have fallen asleep? In the pouring rain, for fuck's sake? Of course, the real reason was that he had spent the entire night before last (_was it really only two nights ago?) _playing World of Warcraft. This was a fairly common occurrence on weekends, and in recent months, he'd started regularly logging in for the sole purpose of helping a young girl advance her character, a level 18 paladin. She had explained to Leo that she was attempting to conquer her addiction to sleeping pills, which meant that she would often stay up late into the night, until her body no longer depended on them…at least that was the theory. That's right, it was Belle, and now she was…

_Why did I have to fall asleep?! It's not fair…_

For all he knew, Belle could have been his saviour. She had woken him up, and Leo had repaid her by stabbing her in the back. Literally and metaphorically. She had made the mistake of shaking Leo in order to rouse him, but Leo just couldn't stand being physically touched, unless he initiated it. He had completely panicked, and if he'd stopped to think, he would have realised then that Belle meant him no harm. The truth was, however, that even if Leo hadn't been slightly confused, the girl would probably have ended up dead by his hand anyway, sooner or later. Earlier on in the game, Leo had been totally unable to handle Jonathan Cray's presence, yet he'd contradicted himself by being angry when Jonathan had tried to abandon him. Hell, this wasn't Jonathan's fault, since he'd tried to convince Leo to come with him, and join up with Steven Wilkinson (Boy #21). Jonathan and Belle. They were two innocent people who had been betrayed while showing Leo nothing but could be expected of them.

_Shit! Why?! Why me, why?!_

Leo, it had to be said, wasn't as concerned for his victims as he should have been. He'd never had a strong sense of empathy, but this could have made him highly suitable for this game. Unfortunately, if he was ever going to survive – escape was not an option- then he'd probably not be able to do it on sheer luck. His poor social skills meant that he'd find it hard to win over anyone's trust before he finished them off: Belle and Jonathan had been, putting it harshly, simply in the wrong place, next to the wrong person. Jonathan Cray may have been a bit of a loser, but what Leo didn't realise was that his classmates appreciated that Jonathan may not have been anything special, but that had never mattered to most of them; he'd been a reluctant class clown. If anyone found out that Leo had killed a more-or-less good person, a friend, no less, then they'd come down on him like a ton of bricks. This went double for Belle Orbison, who as well as being quite sweet and quirky, also happened to have been a pretty young girl. One of the only girls who spoke to Leo.

Leo Davison was constantly unaware of how different he was. Most of the time, he never attempted to talk to any of his classmates, let alone get to know them. His only real friends in the class were Samuel Rothschild (Boy #17), Bryan Smith (Boy #18), Belle via WoW, and Jonathan, sometimes. Leo had an odd obsession with sci-fi, and politics, and often had repeated, one-sided conversations with Sam and Brian, thinking that they were totally happy with not getting a word in edgeways. He opposed the Party line religiously, and had disturbed several members of the class when, during a history class, he had stood up and randomly sworn his allegiance to Winston Churchill, which could well have landed him in prison if he was older. People like Steven Wilkinson (Boy #21) acted like that, so Leo didn't see anything wrong. He often had trouble realising when a person was being sarcastic or ironic. One thing he prided himself on, though, was the fact that whatever others said about him, he truly didn't care, as opposed to Jonathan Cray. This was the basic flaw in their 'friendship'.

Leo wasn't crying anymore. It finally occurred to him that he wasn't safe here, in this state, and so stood up and made his way down the landing to the bathroom, to clean himself up, after which he planned to leave the area altogether. Actually, he rarely displayed strong emotion at all, and he was surprised to find that crying seemed to have washed away his troubles slightly. He'd make his plans momentarily.

In the small, tiled bathroom, the sink and bath were still in place, and the owner apparently kept a variety of shampoos, conditioners, and body lotions all stacked up on the side of the bath. Leo regarded himself in the mirror above the chipped enamel sink, and recoiled in shock, seeing that his fringe was parted to the left. He quickly corrected it, sighing in relief.

_Now then, here's a sound I've missed: good old-fashioned running…_

No water came out of the cold tap. Leo turned it as far as it would go, but there was nothing. He tried the hot tap, and the ones on the bath. No luck. Irrationally, he began to get agitated. Rushing downstairs, he tried the kitchen sink. It was official: the house was dry.

_Now what?_

He bolted back upstairs, taking the steps three at a time. Foolishly, he'd left his daypack in the bedroom, and so would have been left at best mapless and compassless, with no food if he'd been forced to flee. He'd have to use some of his supplied water, and sparingly. Fortunately, he'd been lugging Jonathan's bottles around with him, but still…and he'd not thought of taking Belle's. At the time, he'd rooted through her bag quickly, looking for her weapon before realising that the umbrella she carried must have been it. He'd not thought he might need the water.

_There's still another possibility. _

Yes, Leo really didn't want to waste fresh, spring water washing his face, but it seemed to be the only option. He couldn't just walk about the island covered in blood; he'd be sniffed out if nothing else. Suddenly, he realised that there may just be another source of the liquid he was beginning to crave. The toilet could be his saviour. He wandered back into the bathroom and looked down at the chipped, green toilet. Pulling up the lid (he hadn't used it yet) he saw that it was bone dry.

_Oh well._

But then there was the cistern. It hadn't occurred to him to check until he'd turned to go, but as he lifted the lid, he saw that there was a glimmering pool of water, just waiting to be used. Leo didn't give a damn why it hadn't been flushed away, or care about how long it had been standing. With a heavy heart, he rollerd up his sleeves, and plunged his hands in, for the entire world a child, forced to take a bath. He didn't immediately begin to wipe away the grime, having captured movement out the corner of his eye. The bathroom window faced out onto the street and was, unsurprisingly, constructed from frosted glass, so he couldn't make out the figure who had startled him. Whoever it was had to be an idiot, walking around in full view like that, and from the slight glimpse he'd had, Leo would have hazarded a guess that it had been a boy. He hadn't left any lights on, and it was the middle of the day anyway, but he ducked down instinctively, praying that he hadn't been noticed, and panting in an exhilarated manner.

_That's all I need right now, more blood on my hands. Then again,_ he thought, taking a glance at the already mucky hallway, and the sink,_ this could actually be convenient._

**01:35**

After parting from Olivia Thompson (Girl #17), Rachel Underwood (Girl #18) and Zoe Wakefield (Girl #19) started to head south, towards the source of the flames. Rachel trudged weakly alongside Zoe, semi-regretting the decision that she had made. The more she thought it over, the more likely it seemed to her that she was falling into a trap. She stole a look to her right, seeing the determined, impassioned, _stroppy _face of the cheerleader-esque girl whose judgement she had trusted over that of the smartest girl in the class…well, Rachel thought Olivia was the cleverest; but some others may just be lazier students. Nicole Nicholson (Girl #10) - hide it though she might- certainly had a higher I.Q., and Rachel just hoped that Olivia managed to avoid that bitch. Actually, the divide in the group wasn't just causing Rachel to feel slightly conflicted; it was tearing her apart.

'Zoe? She'll be alright, won't she?' Rachel stopped walking, to catch her breath if nothing else. Being terrified really took the energy from her, and she had broken into a cold sweat, even though it was the middle of winter. Plus, the two girls had been pacing through the dense forest only for a few minutes, but the area was quite hilly. The fire was, evidently, a greater distance away than it had appeared, but it was further east, where the fields were more low-lying. Zoe took the chance to zip open her bag, and aggressively snap open a bottle of Evian's finest, despite the fact that she'd already opened one. She took a long swig before she replied. Rachel looked at her imploringly, as though Zoe could somehow answer her question.

'Look,' Zoe took an impatient breath, 'she said that she'd come and join us when we sent a smoke signal. Besides, she's like a genius, so she'll be okay…anyway, she didn't want to come with us.'

Rachel paused before responding. Eventually, she said: 'You don't believe her, do you? About coming and finding us, I mean.' Her dark face turned solemn and sorrowful. Zoe began to get annoyed.

'Look, Rachel, I'm pissed off with her. You saw the look on her face when she 'agreed' to that deal. She was lying, and she's out for herself. Don't look at me like that; I'm the victim here, not her.' Zoe now looked on the verge of tears. 'I'm scared, Rachel, and she's abandoned me!'

'But I haven't.'

Rachel's soft, caring statement was so unexpected that Zoe actually opened her mouth in surprise. She had automatically assumed that she was the leader here, not Rachel. Zoe was the defendant, the mother figure. Rachel needed to be taken care of…didn't she? Maybe this was true, but it was in that moment that a wave of appreciation suddenly swept over Zoe. She smiled warmly. 'Thanks. I know; we're in this together aren't we? I'm sorry. Again.'

Rachel fought back the girly tears of emotion and the desire to grab Zoe and grip her tightly for comfort, and lifted her hatchet. She looked at it in a mixture of loathing and thoughtfulness. 'I should have given her this, though. We've got the gun, and she has that spade.'

Zoe felt slightly guilty. The thought of trading weapons had crossed her mind, too. However, she'd just been so annoyed that she hadn't cared about Olivia's safety at the time. She tried to dispel Rachel's obvious upset, and smiled sympathetically. 'She'll be _fine_! Trust me! Now, let's get going: aren't you excited to know who's calling to us?!'

Rachel found Zoe's mood swing a little puzzling, but did her best to beam at her. In answer to Zoe's rhetorical question, the answer was yes, actually. Rachel had to admit that she'd been thinking obsessively about who it would be.

_Someone confident and popular, probably. They'd have to be, to trust their classmates so much. Unless, of course, it's someone else…_

Thoughts of Peter Mortimer setting fire to a building, dancing around it, and firing at anyone who came close came vividly to mind. But…somehow, she didn't care anymore. As she gazed up at the rising smoke, which was, ominously, becoming darker and thicker, a sense of hopelessness filled her up. She guessed that she was never returning home. It had, in fact, become clear to her several years ago that she would never see her family again. Prior to this game, she probably would have said, in a blasé manner, that that wouldn't have bothered her. Her mother, she knew, though the world of her, but she had been happier when it had just been the two of them at home (Rachel never knew her father). After her mother's re-marriage, she'd gained a stepfather, who she liked, but resented strongly. Father figures were so overrated. Her mother could have done better than a man with three kids, anyway. So the atmosphere in the home was thick, to say the least, at times. Rachel used to dread going home from school to find her mum in tears after an argument with her stepchildren; consoling her was particularly difficult, knowing that money would go missing, and binge drinking would occur again and again. Not from Rachel, though. In her own eyes, she'd always been half-proud of the fact that she was such a doormat. She realised that, unlike in school, she was the most worthy child. It gave her a slight fuzzy feeling to think of all attention in the household being diverted to her, even though it would be for the wrong reasons.

Zoe raised an eyebrow, for beneath her misery, a satisfied smirk had appeared on Rachel's lips. She'd been quite carried away by her thoughts, and several seconds had gone by with no words between the two girls. Though her smile disappeared as soon as she noticed Zoe's offended glare.

'What are you smiling at, you idiot?' The tone was only half-joking. A sense of shame engulfed Rachel, as an image of her mother hysterically screaming for her came to mind, ten times as vivid and terrible of the vision she'd just had of Peter.

'Nothing,' she abruptly responded, 'I just…' She couldn't think of anything convincing to put at the end of here sentence, so she shrugged and hastened to change the subject. 'So…d'you want to head on? It looks like rain.'

Zoe cast her eyes at the sky. It was fairly grey, but no more than it had been. She nodded her head in response to Rachel, and stood up from the overgrown oak root which she had been sitting on, her feet crunching on the frosty remains of the leaves that had fallen from the braches some time ago. In habit, she raised her lupara and took a furtive glance around her. Inclining her head in the direction of the rising smoke, she started striding across the wood. Rachel automatically followed her, and kept quiet.

They walked for a few minutes before the woodland began to get thicker. Ahead of them the main road that ran around the southern half of the island came into view, and it forked off into a narrower lane, which presumably serviced the northern, mountainous region. Of course, no vehicles were currently using it. The girls reached the borderline and in the absence of trees, could get a clearer idea of their location. Being out in the open was dangerous, but at least they could retreat into the woods if attacked.

'Okay…' Zoe passed over the lupara to a shocked-looking Rachel, who took it nonetheless. This was in order to fumble around in her pack. 'Keep sharp, Rachel!' she hissed, as the taller girl held the gun as a dozy, awkward fashion. Zoe pulled out the map. She scanned it, pointing to various areas, and mumbling to herself. Then she spoke aloud: 'There's a little section of houses down there,' she announced, pointing left in the direction of the smoke. 'That must be where the fire's coming from.'

_So someone set fire to a house?_

That didn't sound particularly encouraging. Nonetheless, Rachel shrugged, and quickly handed the sawn-off back to Zoe. 'Must only be less than half a mile away.'

'So…here we go.'

'Yeah, I think I just saw a flicker of orange.' The land was flatter here, and it must surely only be over the next couple of mounds before they reached their destination. The two broke into a jog.

'Hey, Rachel, are there any boys in out class who you like?' Zoe said it so suddenly, and it was such an unexpected question that Rachel stopped dead in her tracks, as Zoe slowed down to a gentle stop a few metres from her. 'I just wanted to ask you, in case…I don't know…you want to find him and tell him you like him, or something.' Zoe now looked slightly embarrassed, as though she regretted asking the question. Rachel smiled sadly; perhaps Zoe was being a bit crass, but she was touched that her friend obviously cared so much about her.

'Nah, there's nobody. Most of the lads in our class are really annoying.' Rachel paused before asking a question which she didn't really want to. 'Do you like anyone?'

Zoe Wakefield had a…it wasn't exactly a reputation, but she'd been out with several guys in their class alone. Joshua Johnson (Boy # 11, _a complete dick_), Carl Mitchell (Boy #14, who was _actually really nice; Zoe could have done a lot worse_) and Callum Harrison (Boy #8, _fit- and doesn't he know it- oh wait…he's dead now._) had all been linked to her at some point. Zoe's 'feller troubles' could be tiring to say the least, and Rachel didn't particularly want to traipse about the island like some idiot.

'Well,' Zoe replied, 'I think I'd go out with Carl again, if we weren't here….' She paused, and without warning, suddenly burst into tears. She covered her face in her hands, and sobbed into her palms (she'd dropped the gun). As her shoulders began shaking, Rachel leaned closer to her and put an arm around Zoe's shoulder.

'Oh, shit, I-I'm just…so fucking s-scared!'

'I know; just cry as much as you want.' Rachel's voice was comforting and kind, but inside, she privately cursed Zoe for waiting until _now _to break down. After a few minutes went by and Zoe continued to sob violently, Rachel began to check around cautiously. If they stuck around here and Zoe continued to make so much noise, surely they'd be discovered. In fact, Rachel noticed, the two girls were currently standing what seemed to be an oversized ditch, bordered on all sides by gorse bushes which rose up from the ground to the peak of the mounds. There was enough plant life to provide a hiding spot for anyone who could be spying on them.

Rachel immediately felt a cold chill of fear run down her spine. She realised that beads of sweat had collected about her neck and had uncomfortably collected in the tiny gaps between her neck and her silver collar, which reminded Rachel that she was completely at its mercy. It may as well have had a large chain attached to it; she felt so much like a death row inmate. Zoe was no longer any support at all, and she was quickly losing her head. Who knew what she would do if the pressure got to her? The two of them needed to get out of here, and fast. While whispering and shushing her into submission, Rachel slowly began guiding Zoe until she was facing in the direction they had been heading.

'O-okay, Rachel. I'm fine now.' Zoe wiped her wet face, and bent down to retrieve her gun. 'God, I'm so stupid,' she laughed humourlessly. 'Anyone could have…' But the gun wasn't there. She'd left it lying on the ground in a puddle, so where was…?

'I've got the gun. Don't worry.' Zoe whirled around, and saw that, of course, Rachel was holding the lupara, and was standing only a few feet away.

_I'm losing it…I'm going crazy!_

Zoe giggled unnervingly. She'd been panicking for nothing, and now she moved forward with her arms outstretched. 'Thanks, I- Rachel, are you okay?' Zoe saw that Rachel was analysing the gun in some kind of horrified, yet intrigued manner. Her dark face had become unusually severe. 'Rachel, g-give me the gun. What are you-?'

'I think maybe I should hold onto it.' Rachel interrupted. 'I mean, I've just been thinking…maybe we're being watched.' She cast a panicked glance around her, as though someone would suddenly reveal themselves. This move was copied by Zoe, whose freckled face had become a degree more anxious. She didn't understand what was going on. Rachel had held the gun earlier, yet she'd let go of it as though it were scalding her. A part of Zoe knew, at that point, that she wasn't ever going to get her weapon back. It could possibly have been intuition.

'Rachel, stop messing about!' she sounded slightly hysterical. 'You saw me with the gun earlier and I know how to-'

'What do you think happens when you die?' Rachel seemed to be begging Zoe for something, but it was impossible to tell what. If Zoe's earlier question concerning boys was surprising, then God only knows the adjective to describe this one. Rachel rested her finger on the trigger, but she made no attempt to threaten Zoe, who was forcing herself to try to keep calm. She failed, and her blood ran cold.

'What?! Don't kill me! I swear Rachel, I'll do anything-'

'I'm not going to kill you! Just answer me! I have to know…' tears were streaming down her face and her mouth was hanging open as she gasped for breath. 'I just need to know that you don't think that…it's the end…' she trailed off and collapsed to her knees, soaking her trousers in the process. She raised her right arm and tossed the lupara away, as though disgusted with it. She then proceeded to gaze around the woodland and up at the sky, as though she were transfixed. It all really was very beautiful and peaceful. She looked to her right and could hear the waves of the sea pounding onto the shore.

_Will everything really just disappear?_

Zoe hurried frantically across to the area where Rachel had tossed the weapon. It had landed in the middle of a thicket and Zoe scrabbled around in the dirt, as desperately as she might have done if the gun had been made of pure gold. After a few seconds she waded into the bushes, he legs being slashed until they bled but she didn't care.

_I'm getting out of here! Away from this psycho!_

Only very briefly did Zoe glance instinctively back, to see Rachel put her hands onto the ground in order to get to her feet. She stood up and turned in the direction of Zoe.

_Fuck, she's still got the axe!_

At last Zoe located the lupara. It lay suspended between two bushes, resting on the branches like a cradle Zoe certainly felt a sense of relief similar to that when a mother finds a lost child, as she reached out to reclaim it. She didn't quite get her hands on it however, as a horrific shriek echoed behind her.

'Zoe, over there!'

Rachel's cry of horror, of course, caused Zoe to first whirl around and stare, panicked, in her direction. All colour had drained from her face, which made her look quite unlike herself. Her eyes did not acknowledge Zoe, however; they were firmly glued to whatever it was that had struck her with such fear. Zoe followed Rachel's eyes to an area several feet higher then either of them were currently standing. Zoe recoiled in shock at seeing another human being, and no words came out as she first gawked at the blonde girl staring back at her, as though faintly amused. Then Zoe realised that she didn't seem to be carrying a gun.

_Thank. Fucking. God_

'I-if you try anything, Nicole,'- Zoe took a step towards the lupara. She tried to make her voice sound confident and unafraid- 'then…I'll blow your fucking brains out!' Zoe had no reason to believe that Nicole Nicholson (Girl #11) would intend to simply walk away. Nicole was one of the kids in the class, she knew, who were to be avoided. Rumoured to be a tough criminal, and generally not very nice, Nicole had at school taken an almost sadistic pleasure in the troubles of the other girls, and it wasn't unheard of for her to have threatened some of the particularly non-confident kids into submission whenever she needed something, or simply wanted to toy around with them. Zoe had a particular reason to detest her, which was rooted in the way Nicole sometimes called her a 'wannabe slut' or a 'future trophy wife' behind her back and sometimes to her face. Zoe once called her on it at break, pointing out that Nicole was a hypocrite, having been sleeping around probably since she was twelve.

'_Well,' _Nicole had said, _'that was why I said it. To piss you off. You look like a ginger beetroot when you're angry. Maybe you're on your rag?'_

'_You bitch!' _Zoe had actually moved forward to slap her, only to be restrained by Lucy Edmonton (Girl #4).

'_She's not worth it, Zoe!' _Lucy had then turned to face Nicole and Janine Carter (Girl #3) who was also present. _'You two are so pathetic! Just leave her alone, okay?'_

Janine was not best pleased. _'Hey, what did I do?!' _she leapt up from the bench she was sitting on and faced Nicole. _'Why do you always get me involved? I don't need these twats breathing down my neck, lumping us together. I bet it's because I'm poor, isn't it?'_ Janine snarled and glared at Lucy and Zoe.

'Whatever!' this was both Nicole and Zoe, the latter of which had calmed down. Nicole's face had taken on a particularly satisfied expression. She gestured to her pigtailed companion. _'Come on Janine, we've got some _blackmailing_ to do!' _As the two walked away, Zoe felt a surge of anger directed towards Lucy. She resented the fact that she'd involved herself in Zoe's battles…but now she was dead.

Right now, Nicolewasn't far enough away that Zoe couldn't see the familiar cruel smile forming that her lips formed. Unfortunately, there was probably distance enough for Nicole to make a relatively clean getaway. Zoe wondered, nonetheless, how she could afford to look so smug. Maybe she'd killed already. Maybe she was just a fucking lunatic.

_Never mind. I'm getting out of here, even if I have to kill the both of them!_ Zoe stole a glance at the area over to where Rachel was standing. The latter started shouting:

'Leave it Zoe; come on, we've got to run!'

_No way! Not for you to turn on me again-!_

'I can't trust you!' she faced Rachel who was crying and shaking her head violently now. Zoe's words had just cut her deep, regardless of the situation. 'You're crazy, Rachel! Talking about dying-'

'I just wanted to know what you thought! I needed you to…reassure me.' Rachel looked pleadingly at Zoe.

'You won't need to trust her.' Nicole's clear, snide voice caught the girls' attention. She appeared to be in the process of standing up, though neither Zoe nor Rachel had noticed her crouch down. Standing atop the mound like a warrior queen, she then took a few steps back, but didn't disappear from sight.

'And what the fuck does that mean?' Zoe had gotten her hands on the lupara, and was aiming it in her direction, though it was unlikely she'd be able to hit Nicole, at least from this distance.

Then she heard it. A faint rustling in the bushes just ahead of her as a small, silver, orbital object bounced through the foliage in her direction. Of course, Zoe couldn't see it, and assumed it must be some kind of animal at first. She aimed her gun at the source of the noise. 'What's tha-

But she never found out exactly what it was.

The grenade had exploded only about a metre away from Zoe, but even if Nicole hadn't been quite such a good judge of perspective, the blast would easily have killed her. From Zoe's right, an almighty banging noise erupted, and clouds of dust, dirt, and leaves rose into the air. The surrounding bushes were obliterated as thousands of pieces of white-hot shrapnel burst off in all directions. Zoe Wakefield was blown literally off her feet as the lower part of her leg tore away from her body. Luckily, for her, she didn't feel it, as the shrapnel had ripped its way into her stomach, back, and the right side of her head at the same millisecond. Parts of her body had been blown to bits, and the rest of it was burnt red, black and covered in blood. Her skin was burnt on her face, destroying any traces of prettiness that had been there. Her eyes were still intact, surprisingly, and were only half-shocked, not having had time to process what was happening.

**02:02**

Although the range of the grenade had certainly been large enough to affect Rachel, it hadn't quite been enough to kill her. If she hadn't been moving across to where Zoe was standing, then she may well have come out unscathed, but as it was…

The force had blown her onto the ground, and at several points down her right arm and leg, and in her stomach, she could feel a scalding pain boring into her. Perhaps she was suffering from third degree burns. Underneath her body, warm blood began to collect. Rachel attempted to move, but the pain was too great, and she'd been greatly weakened. In the moments before she died, her thoughts went back to the afterlife. It looked like there was no hope for her now: she was going to die. For a split second, she wondered whether Nicole had set the fire that had drawn them here…but that didn't matter. She should be content that Olivia was safe- for now, at least- but instead Rachel felt bitter that she hadn't trusted her. On the other hand, the prospect of eternal sleep didn't horrify her quite so much; in fact it didn't seem like such a bad thing. She could have been in too much pain to be scared. Would her life have been worth living if she had survived this game? She didn't know.

Hearing a noise behind her, Rachel realised that Nicole was clambering down the steep slope to retrieve their weapons. Of course it had been Nicole who'd caused the explosion. It hadn't made sense a few seconds earlier, but now she understood.

Nicole didn't seem to be stopping to check on Zoe. Mercifully, Rachel wasn't facing her mangled corpse, so she didn't realise that she looked completely healthy in comparison to her friend.

As she heard Nicole approach her, her footsteps squelching across the wet ground Rachel didn't bother playing dead. Nicole wasn't some kind of grizzly bear. She just hoped- and this was filling her with fear- that Nicole would be…gentle. There was no way she was getting medical treatment from her.

'I knew it,' Nicole's sighed unhappily, as though something was inconveniencing her. 'You just couldn't die quickly, could you?' Rachel didn't respond, and she wasn't sure whether Nicole even knew that she was conscious.

'Still, at least you aren't begging me for mercy. I suppose that counts for something.'

_So…she's killed before!_

At that point, Rachel heard a zip snap open, before Nicole bent down and Rachel could feel the blonde hair on her neck. It made her skin crawl, even now.

There was a crunching noise, as something sharp was buried into the back of Rachel's neck. Then, she was gone at last.

Nicole Nicholson got to her feet. She waited about a minute and, when she was quite sure that Rachel's breathing had stopped, she bent down and yanked the silver arrow out of her neck. The arrow had belonged to Luciano Estevez (Boy #6). Nicole had smashed the crossbow itself, but the projectiles evidently came in handy. In fact, although she'd been disappointed that none of her first three victims carried a gun, their weapons were certainly helpful enough. So far, she'd used every single one of them.

Nicole put the arrow back in her daypack after using a clean part of Rachel's jumper to wipe off the blood, then headed over towards Zoe Wakefield and more importantly, the sawn-off shotgun.

**14:06: Surviving Contestants: 28**


	15. Healing Hands

**January 16****th**** 14:10**

_Urgh…what the hell did I drink last night…? Where am I…?_

Her head pounded, and she felt quite sick. Her skin was coated in sweat, and the hard, stiff bed sheets on which she was lying did very little to ease her discomfort. Still, she was fairly groggy, so hopefully she could just rest her head and drift back to sleep until-

_!!!! No…what's going on?!_

Maxine McKenzie sat bolt upright, not caring that it caused the sensation of a dagger being rammed into her skull. This mental image would later remind her that certain members of her class may be suffering the same sensation, in the literal sense. Memories came flooding back to her, and for the briefest of seconds thought that she was still on the coach, unaffected by the gas.

_It's a hangover, and I've had a nightmare. Unusually for the aftermath of a booze-fuelled night out. But I'm not imagining this…_

She cried aloud, and brought her hands up to her rounded, attractive face. Shaking in fear and anguish, she heard a door open, and the sound of footsteps hurrying across the room. A pair of male arms wrapped around her shoulders, and she continued to wail.

"It's alright….shhh…don't cry; you'll be alright."

Maxine took no notice. Her thoughts were focused entirely on the events of the previous evening, which had, from Maxine's point of view, begun almost twenty-four hours ago. For the time being, she could only remember brief moments of her dramatic realisation of what was occurring. The memory of being thrown from the bus has not yet returned to her, but that wasn't what was important.

_They're all dying! Because I was too slow! No, I- wait!_

"What time is it?!" Maxine rounded on the figure patiently standing by her bed, her eyes desperately begging, tears rolling down her face. She was stunned to see that she appeared to be in a doctor's surgery. The walls, ceiling and furniture of the room were all coloured a typically unpleasant brown, and ordinary NHS medical supplies were lumped upon the desk.

The man who had entered the room smiled benignly, though he was clearly also bemused and maybe even a little wary of Maxine's presence. He looked about thirty years old, and would have been dressed quite smartly in a white shirt and tie, though he looked very much like a man who'd slept in his clothes. He smiled kindly, showing a set of perfectly white teeth, which contrasted oddly with his chubby face. He responded calmly, trying unsuccessfully to ease Maxine back down into a lying position. "Quarter past two. It's the sixteenth; you've been out for quite a long time. But – steady!" Maxine broke out into a fresh wail, and thrashed her arms about, to stop the guy from touching her.

_It's too late…They're dead…or as good as! _

Maxine cried until she was red in the face, while her companion could only watch in astonishment. Eventually, though he'd been planning to let her go on until she tired herself out, he intervened. "You're going to have to stop, you'll break the stitches!" For the first time, Maxine appeared to listen, and sharply responded:

"S-stitches?!"

"On your arms, and the side of your head."

Sure enough, as Maxine felt around, her hands rubbed against several bandages and lumps all over her body. She winced as she pressed down too hard on a deep cut just above her left elbow. This reminded her of her headache, and realised that there was also a deep gash in her forehead. Her sobs now came in short bursts, and she lay down miserably, facing away from the man who…

"Who are you?" Maxine whispered quietly, pulling the covers back over her as subconscious protection. Although she couldn't see it, the man smiled in relief.

"My name's William Brown," he spoke with only a trace of a Scottish accent, "and I'm a doctor, so you're in good hands." This was clearly supposed to be reassuring, but Maxine really couldn't give a shit what his occupation was at the moment. It didn't even occur to her that Dr. Brown had probably saved her life, and done a pretty good job of it, too.

"Where am I?"

Dr. Brown paused. "I'll tell you what. I'll just nip out and get you some ice for that wound. Then we'll talk. I have quite a lot of questions for you too." Maxine heard him turn around and leave the room. She could remember everything now. Max's puzzled attitude; the switch of drivers; her own horror as she realised what was happening…all of it. Right down to the moment that she had actually become a victim of attempted murder. She didn't care about herself, of course. Her form group were being forced to participate in the sickest competition known to mankind. Or so she thought…she had no actual evidence…

_Stupid._

Of course that was what was going on; what else could it possibly be? Maxine tried very hard to concentrate on her own pain, since the thought of what her class was going through made her feel worse. Calming down, she had come to the strange, sudden realisation that she cared about each one of the forty-two kids she registered as being present at school on a daily basis. She had never really been the maternal type, but now she felt as though it had been her duty to protect them all until the very end…and she had failed. She didn't even know where they were.

"Here we go." Maxine barely heard the door open, and made no movements as William gently placed the icepack onto her head, though it was in fact a rather pleasant feeling, and numbed her pain. She lay still, waiting for Dr. Brown to say something. When he didn't, she mumbled: "What happened last night? Who brought me here - wherever I am?"

"So now you're ready to talk?" he spoke in a slightly patronising manner, with the air of a guidance councillor. However, he clearly meant well, so Maxine resisted the urge to tell him to fucking get on with it. "Actually, I brought you here. You were lying on the moor in the middle of nowhere, unconscious. Do you remember?"

"Yeah…I remember."

"Well, you're in Arisaig." Maxine obviously had no idea where exactly that was, and Dr. Brown seemed to understand. "It's just a small village and I run this practice. I didn't bargain for spending my weekend here! But there aren't any hospitals for miles, and this place was as good as any. I stayed here all night; your wounds were bad, but it would've been a lot worse if I hadn't found you when I did. I thought you were dead at first…" He seemed to be quite enjoying telling his side of the story, now that he'd gotten into the swing of it. Maxine had heard all she needed to know and guessed the rest: Dr Brown had been driving home from work had spotted her from his car, and the rest was history. "But what happened to you? It's just that…it seems a bit strange that you were there. There was nothing in the vicinity, nothing at all." the doctor now sounded rather worried, as though he'd hoped that his humorous mood would have put her at ease, and this was clearly not the case.

"Well," Maxine sniffed, "I…"

_I…what? Almost died trying to protect my class from execution? Or was caught trying to sabotage a government programme? Shit, it's the same thing…what kind of guy am I dealing with here?_

"I…my car was stolen. I was so scared…two guys pulled me over and I thought a rear light was broken or something…then they forced me out of the car and…and…"

Dr. Brown grasped her as her body shook, the tears returning. It wasn't really an act; all she had to do was re-live the truth, and this was apparently enough for Dr. Brown to believe her half-arsed story.

"Well, now that you're alright, I'll call the police! This is-"

"No! D-don't call the police."

He looked at Maxine strangely, and replied, exasperated. "But you just said that your car was stolen! Moreover, those bastards grievously assaulted you and left you for dead! I'm calling them." He kept a close eye on Maxine as he walked over to his own phone on the desk. Alarm bells began going off in her head.

_What do I do now?!_

No matter how distraught she was, Maxine was not prepared to go to jail or worse as a martyr for those poor teenagers. What good would that do? If there was something- anything- she could do to save them it would be different. She already faced a life on the run- what she had done was a criminal offence. On the other hand, the government would probably have disposed of her anyway, once they had the kids in their clutches. No, she'd done the right thing by getting herself in this situation. What kind of person would she be if she hadn't opposed all those deaths? But she'd been –lucky didn't quite seem the right word- that she'd been picked up by Dr. Brown.

_At the moment, none of that matters!_

All this time, she'd been trying to think up a reason why not to telephone the authorities. If she had just said that she'd been out jogging and fallen over, then there'd be no problem!

"Wait! I'm not sure I remember everything quite yet. We don't want to waste their time." He voice had suddenly gone all high-pitched and breathy, as it always did when she attempted to speak casually about something very crucial. Nonetheless, having only pushed the first button, Dr. Brown put the (brown- oh, so appropriate) phone down, disengaging it. Then he laughed.

"You're right. I guess I just got a little caught up in the excitement!"

Maxine almost burst out in a fit of giggles in relief. "S-so I'll just sit here and wait until it all comes back to me." She lay back, desperately trying to think up a plan. The best scenario would be to escape from here with as much time to spare as possible. Would the authorities be actively searching for her? Not yet, surely. It was at this point that she first thought clearly of the second bus driver. The skin all over her body crawled, as she contemplated the fact that she'd be dead now, if he'd done a more thorough job. She'd never forget that mask; it was like something out of a horror film. This last day had been a living nightmare, actually. What was really tragic was that she would, hopefully, come out of it better than anyone else.

"Hey," William Brown sounded quite surprised, "You've been here for so long and I don't even know your name. I tried looking at your mobile for any clues to your identity but…" he produced the remnants of a

Of course, she'd had to give him a fictional story, so….

"Danielle Oliver," she replied immediately, choosing the first name that came into her head. "I'm- on holiday."

The doctor laughed. "Well, nice to meet you Miss Oliver…or is it Mrs?" Maxine shook her head. But why travel at this time of year, especially on your own? Well, I suppose it's each to their own…but where are you staying? Won't someone be missing you?"

Maxine had already formulated a plan in her head. All she had to do was play the role of clueless victim for as long as possible. Whatever happened, she couldn't allow herself to be in the company of the only person who knew her whereabouts for much longer. She had to admit, she was astonished that such an educated professional like a doctor was buying this crap. Then again, she'd never had any trouble getting her own way when it came to men.

"Well…" Maxine chose her words carefully. If she slipped up, it could well prove fatal for her. She only remembered the name of one town in the area. "I was renting a place in Fort William-"

"Oh, I live there!" Dr Brown exclaimed, much to Maxine's dismay. "Where are you staying?"

"Uh…I've forgotten the address. But I think I know where it is…could you take me there?" At this point, Maxine looked directly into his eyes with as much pleading as she could muster. Surely he wouldn't refuse her?

"Of course I will! But I'm not going to leave you alone, Danielle- can I call you Danielle?- so as soon as we get there I'll call the police, even if you don't feel you can remember everything. Is that OK?"

It looked as though it would have to be. Maxine nodded her head and slid her feet off her bed. "Do you mind if I have a glass of water? It's just that I…"

"Sure, I understand." Dr. Brown took a mug (which he probably drank tea or coffee from) and filled it over at the sink on the other side of the room, before bringing it over to her. She took it gratefully, feeling the cool liquid pouring down her throat.

"Thanks," she murmured, before a better idea occurred to her. "Hey, do you mind if you we stop by the place where you found me? I think that if you do that, I might remember, you know?"

"Well, it's on the way, so that's fine. It's a good idea, actually. So…are you ready to go?" He stood up and reached for his coat, which was hanging on a peg on the door. He must have noticed the nervous expression crossing Maxine's face. "Don't worry," he added reassuringly, "you'll be alright once we get there. The police'll take good care of you."

_Oh, I hear that, mate…_

"And I won't leave you." Dr. Brown smiled again. Maxine smiled back, weakly. She was genuinely grateful to him; even at this time, when her world was falling apart, Maxine could appreciate all he was doing for her.

"Thanks." She stood up, finding herself oddly shaky and looked around for her own coat. It lay at the foot of her bed, alongside her trainers. She slipped them on, and followed Dr. Brown to the door, daring to hope that she may survive yet.

* * *

**14:26**

The house was quiet. From the inside, all that could be heard was the ticking hands of the clock, mounted on the wall in the upstairs drawing room. Actually, to call it a house was probably an understatement. The building was a majestic stately home, only just short of being considered a manor. Set in an area of the island where the terrain began to slope up into the mountainous area, it was also surrounded by pine woodland, which ended at the point where it had been cut back, to make way for the white, high stone wall which enclosed the gardens. Whoever had owned this place had quite obviously enjoyed the beauty of the island, but, when the house was built, it had been done in such a way that cut it off from the rest of the inhabitants of the island. It couldn't be clearly seen by anyone unless they happened to be walking up the dead-end road which lead up to the estate, and why would they have done that? However, its location in such a secluded place was exactly what made it so desirable to its current 'tenants'.

The window of the drawing-room faced east, and from where he was standing, Michael Hill (Boy #10) could see the lawn, framed by flowers and shrubs, all of which had undoubtedly seen better days. It had probably been several weeks since anyone had bothered doing any decent weeding. At this time of day, the shadows were already lying long.

_Could this really be my last night alive?_

Michael had been standing here for quite some time now, waiting for any developments. Of course he had nothing to do but think about his own fate, and that of the students who had gone left the group, specifically in order to add to it. A wave of bitterness came over Michael, which was only made worse as he kept his grasp onto the harpoon gun which had killed Christopher Day (Boy #5). No matter how much the blade was washed, he could never forget that, less than a few hours ago, it had been covered in Chris's guts…just disgusting. Michael was not a person who was easily weakened. In fact, he took great pride in being fairly tough and unyielding; however he'd never been confident or independent, so was happy to be a follower in his clique. That was what you had to do in life: move to support the side which can best support you. Some of the others may have been immature, and in truth he didn't like the group's leader Joshua Johnson (Boy #11) at all. But, well, as long as he was with them, he would be fine. That had been true in school anyway. As such, he'd had no qualms about waiting for his friends outside the church hall (having avoided Nicole Nicholson (Girl #10) and trying to imagine a way out of this fucking game. Of course he trusted them absolutely, but was trust really enough? He had less than one and a half days to think up something; time was running out Of course, things had not gone according to plan, and so far, the six of them had come up with nothing.

_Well, seven of us now…_

Behind him, the he heard someone breathing in the doorway. It was a girl, and she made no attempt to speak, but instead moved closer towards him before he heard her sitting down on a polished oak chair.

"How's he doing, Liz?"

Unsurprisingly, she did not respond. _Oh yeah…_

He turned around and faced her directly. Elizabeth Pullman (Girl #13) looked up at him quizzically. "Shorry? Were you sheyin'shumthen?"

Michael resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _Well, duh. You could see my mouth moving from that angle._

"I asked you how the 'patient' is doing. Is he feeling alright?"

Elizabeth Pullman wasn't really a friend of his. She hung out with some of the girls, but she didn't seem to like large groups in particular. Maybe she thought that no guy would want her because she was deaf? Or maybe he, Michael, was just being insensitive. Well, who cared? They had happily accepted her to join the group out of pity (and Josh had made no protests, so all was fine with that); they could hardly leave her alone and not give her a fair chance. She's probably blow her head of in a danger zone she was unaware of.

Elizabeth didn't reply immediately, but instead asked: D'ya think they'll bring anywun back?" As she said it, she gazed out the window at the rising smoke of the fire. She was of course referring to Joshua and Kirandeep Khan (Boy #12) who had ultimately decided to separate from the group and go off 'recruiting'. Well, they had set off hours ago, but had returned very shortly after, with the news of Chris' death...

"I don't know. Why?" Michael asked, for no real reason.

"Well, I wazh jusht wondering, sinsh Zhoe and the othersh aren't dead, maybe they'll come. I…" she paused for a moment, "I think they will."

"Yeah. Look, Elizabeth, I know how shit this is for you, but you've got to remember that…Josh and Kiran might not make it back either." He was loathe to admit it, but that was the truth. People out there were knocking others off for their own survival. Twelve classmates were dead at the last count; maybe there were even more now.

Elizabeth looked at him with small, brown eyes. She had long dark blonde hair which covered the scar across the side of her neck, though Michael didn't know about this. She was small and skinny and wore clothing with a floral pattern. In short, she looked very much like a doll that needed protecting, but as she stared at him, Michael realised that maybe his kind wasn't the protection she wanted.

"I know that! Jusht because I can't hear you doeshent mean I'm a shpaz!" There were tears forming in her eyes now. "I know that unlesh we get off the fuckin' island tomorrow; we're all goin' ka-boom!" She raised her arms and spread them from her neck outwards, as if to emphasise the point.

"Alright, I get it!" Michael now felt slightly ill, and an artery in his neck seemed to throb against the metal collar. He didn't really want to think about that outcome, but Elizabeth was right; none of them could afford to take their time. Even if they were attacked, the only decent weapon they had was the harpoon gun Michael currently held. Some deranged person could- literally- break into the house, all guns blazing. _And they might win. _

Elizabeth sat dabbing her eyes with the expensive-looking tablecloth which covered the ornate writing desk. "Well?"  
"Let's go. There's nothing else we can do."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyebrows, before realising what he meant. "Oh, I thought you were goin' to leave ush for a second there!" She laughed nervously, before standing up and following him out of the room. The two of them were on the first floor of the building, and proceeded down a short corridor after exiting the room. On the walls, several frames hung empty, though from what Michael and Elizabeth could see, the house was still decorated and furnished perfectly. This further indicated that the former owners had had to travel light, when they had been evicted. In fact, when the game was over, all of these beautiful antiques- lamps, ornaments etc. - would probably be seized.

Michael couldn't help but feel slightly apprehensive as the two of them arrived at the smallest bedroom in the house, at the north end. With Elizabeth in tow, he felt a bit like a doctor doing the rounds on a ward. They stood outside the door, which was completely shut.

"Ready?" asked Elizabeth, in a voice much louder than she had intended.

"For fuck's sake," called an irritated voice from within, "I'm not gonna bite your head off. And I can hear you, Liz. We're not all deaf…" This last sentence could probably be considered offensive, but since these were special circumstances and Liz didn't hear anyway, Michael opened the door and ignored it.

"You're looking a lot better." Michael observed.

Harry Hayes (Boy #9) was sitting up in bed, heavily bandaged with various pieces of cloth across his right chest and shoulder blade, from where Christopher Day's bullet had been extracted. He was half-naked and looked surprisingly uncomfortable with Elizabeth in the room, though that was the least of his worries. Propped up by pillows and a duvet for warmth, Harry smiled weakly. "Thanks. I mean that. No news?"

Harry and Elizabeth both shook their heads and sat down at the foot of Harry's bed, preparing themselves for nothing but the announcement, though they had a long wait yet. The sound of footsteps could be heard from downstairs. Stacey Phillips (Girl #12) and Carl Mitchell (Boy #14) seemed to be moving about the house too. Calmness fell over the household, at least for the moment.

* * *

**14:33 Surviving Contestants: 28**


	16. Misunderstanding

**January 16****th**** 14:33**

On the island's eastern shore, Kirandeep Khan (Boy #12) had been waiting for over an hour for any signs of life. He was supposed to be watching out intently, but instead found his eyes inexplicably drawn to the crackling fire which he had built. This particular area was fairly clear, and had once been a picnic area, so the trees had all been cut down a long time ago. There were only a few trees separating the fire and Kirandeep from the beach, and it was in this area that Kirandeep found himself hiding among the bushes.

"Kiran!" This was Joshua Johnson (Boy #11), who knelt alongside Kirandeep, clutching a revolver. His face, usually so smug and arrogant, now looked downright miserable and bad-tempered. "You're not even looking around!"

Kirandeep recoiled in surprise, and was about to protest, but Josh was right, really. "Oh, sorry…but I don't see what good I can do with this piece of shit." Kirandeep held up his own weapon, a simple, silver candlestick. He paused for a moment, and added, "Do you think it's time to call it a day?"

Joshua's furrowed brows narrowed. Kirandeep was of course referring to the reason they were stationed here. The two of them had arrived in this area and built a fire by dismantling the picnic tables and setting them alight with Kirandeep's lighter, which he'd luckily had on his person at the time of the class's abduction. The tables had been covered by green canvas umbrellas, so they were fairly dry even after the storm. Joshua had no doubt that some people would have seen the fire (it had grown to a surprising height, but the smoke it produced was just as important) and, yes, he and Kirandeep had been here for a while now, but Kirandeep wasn't being fair.

"Kiran, you know that some people'll think that we're someone out to kill them. Plus the island's really big and…there aren't as many people in the class as before, you know. So we're going to stick it out, whether you like it or not."

Kirandeep made no verbal response, but nodded his head and looked around him as though hoping to spot any potential allies. Then he closed his eyes and bit his lip, turning his head away from Josh.

"Oh, what the fuck's the matter, Kiran? Is this about Chris?"

"Do you think it'll be alright? I didn't mean to…"

Josh sneered at him. "Well, actually Kiran, you did mean to, but I don't blame you. I know he was trying to kill Harry (Hayes, Boy #9) but he turned and fired at _us, _remember?! Don't be such a pussy about it."

Kirandeep Khan was the killer of Christopher Day (Boy #5). When they had first set out to find other people to join their group and find a way out of the game, Josh and Kiran had run across Christopher, standing over Harry Hayes' injured body, pointing a gun at him. Kirandeep had called out to him, but…

_Why did you have to try and shoot me, Chris?!_

Josh was wrong about Kirandeep supposedly meaning to kill Chris. When he had fired the harpoon gun (his original weapon), he had acted on instinct. Chris had clearly gone mad, so that was okay, right? Kirandeep had somewhat hoped, after carrying back a severely wounded Harry back to the house (or "HQ", as Joshua had started to put it), that Josh would realise that trying to find other people was a risky and pointless plan, but Josh was having none of it.

Kirandeep had agreed to be the one to partner Josh largely because it was simply expected of him. Kirandeep put up with Josh's ego-trips and outrageous behaviour for the reason that, well, Kirandeep was a bit of a sycophant (Michael Hill had coined the nickname the "Sikh Smithers"). Kirandeep looked up to Joshua, and admired his strength and willpower, hoping that it would serve him well in this game. They'd been friends for such a long time now, so Kirandeep was overjoyed to find Joshua waiting for him outside the hall. Competing in the game was bad enough, but surely going it alone was fatal.

Kirandeep didn't know whether he was going to survive until tomorrow, but he did know, as he wrapped his coat around him, that he was starting to feel cold. Extremely cold, in fact. The fire was several metres away, and though it produced heat, it wasn't really enough. He began to lose some feeling in his fingers and flexed them to stop them turning completely numb.

_Wait a minute, I've got my lighter._

He slid his hand into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew the cheap blue cigarette lighter, flicking it to produce a flame, before drawing it up to his face, inhaling the warm air around it.

"What the hell are you doing?!" hissed Joshua, who had been crouching immobile for several moments now. "Smoking _now_-_"_

"I'm not smoking! I gave it up, remember?" Kirandeep hastily put the light out by releasing the switch. "Don't know why, though. If I'm going to die soon…" Kirandeep felt his blood run very cold, and it made him shiver.

The air was so cold that Joshua exhaled smoke from his own considerable nostrils in frustration. "Don't you dare cry! And be quiet, we could be being watched. Josh gripped the gun tightly. It was a Ruger which had been Christopher Day's supplied weapon, and Josh had immediately claimed it as his own after Chris' death. He relaxed his grip only slightly after looking around. In the vicinity, there existed plenty of hills and trees, all sloping down from the mountain. Josh could imagine someone just hiding behind a bush, waiting until his and Kiran's backs were turned and bang! All would be lost. Josh had never imagines being 'bored' in this game, but it seemed rather appropriate, actually. He couldn't do anything until someone came there way, but that could be hours from now. Even if they did show up, would it be possible to tell whether they were friend or foe? No, possibly not.

Joshua was suddenly struck by a memory. "Hey, Kiran, d'you remember that time we went camping? It wasn't the whole class, but about half of us went. I was just thinking about how we did that orienteering task in the dark, and you'd taken some booze from your dad's shop."

"…Yeah…" Kirandeep was wondering what bearing on Earth this had on the current situation. Plus, having had to face up to the idea that he may never see his family again, he didn't particularly want to be reminded of all the ways he'd disappointed them.

_Oh, Guru Nanak, if you exist, please get me out of here. I'll marry any girl my mam wants me to…_

"Kiran? Are you still with me?" Kirandeep nodded. "Well, anyway, sneaking the beer into Ewan (Stone, Boy #19) and them's tent was hilarious wasn't it? Hah! And Miss McKenzie totally took the piss, because it was something like 3% volume?" Joshua had liked Miss McKenzie; she was funny and cool, not like most teachers. If the class had actually ever gone on that adventure weekend, they'd probably all be having a good laugh now. Climbing hills, kayaking…that was where Josh was in his element. Recalling these activities, he looked at Kiran with a slight pang of envy. Kirandeep had to be the laziest person he'd ever known. He never did _anything_ active, and there had been many a time when Kiran just would make up some retarded excuse not to play sports, and yet he was still skinny as a rake. Maybe it was an Indian thing.

"Uh-huh…" Kirandeep replied, "you were friends with Ewan before, weren't you?"

The question caught Joshua off guard. Ewan Stone _had _been one of Joshua's friends, before they began year eight. That was roundabout the time Ewan started hanging out with Callum Harrison (Boy #8) and Tyson Baxter (Boy #1). He'd changed. He started acting all poncy and weird, with aftershave, expensive clothes etc, and Joshua had never been into any of that. No, Joshua was proud to be a man's man (as gay as that sounded to him), who er…was generally disliked by a lot of people. If he'd had the time back, maybe he wouldn't have given some of the guys at school such a hard time. Annoying the hell out of them hadn't actually seemed like bullying, since Joshua did it to practically everyone. The reputation he had gained by constantly highlighting people's faults wouldn't help him in the here and now at all. This made him question the loyalty of his "gang" for the briefest of moments.

"Well, yeah, I did like him, but he's dead now, so it doesn't matter," he waved his hand dismissively, and Kiran recognised the sign to drop the subject.

At the sound of a zip unfastening Joshua turned his eyes to Kirandeep, who had slipped his lighter away, and seemed to be rooting around in his bags for something.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm hungry, and I wanted to check the map." Kiran replied, rustling his hand in a plastic bag for a bread roll, and unfolding the map of the island. "L-05 goes active in about a quarter of an hour. Should I cross it off?" he asked as he took a chunk of crusty bread from the roll, savouring it.

Josh rolled his eyes. _"Should I mark it down?"_ he mimicked. "Well, I don't know Kirandeep. Maybe you should, if you want to make sure you don't accidentally wander into it." He pulled his jumper right up to his chin, and tucked his legs in before wrapping his arms around them. "You don't have to have my permission to do everything, you know."

Kirandeep shrugged his shoulders, and looked down at the map, scribbling a mark over zone L-05. "What's the matter with you? Do you want to go back?" Kiran's voice rose as he asked the latter question, hopefully.

"No I don't fucking want to go back! If I want to return to HQ, then I'll do it when I feel like it! Stop bothering me, Kirandeep." He sighed exasperatedly.

_Fine then, I will, _thought Kirandeep.

Not that he wasn't used to this kind of treatment. The thing with Josh was that you had to treat him sometimes like a parent, and sometimes like your own child, and it was pretty hard to judge which 'mode' to be in, based on Josh's mood. Kiran didn't usually mind, since everyone else thought it was pretty funny. However, he had to admit, he didn't feel comfortable baiting Josh, as the others did, especially now. Instead, he observed him cautiously.

Joshua Johnson was tall, but also a little overweight, and with a fairly wide mouth and broad nose. Of course, these things meant nothing to Kirandeep, but what was it that made Josh stand out as such a commanding presence in the class? Maybe it was a tough-guy attitude? Kirandeep certainly felt intimidated at times. Then he began to wonder whether Joshua was waiting for anyone in particular. It didn't seem likelyWell, he'd only had one "girlfriend", and that was Zoe Wakefield (Girl #19, otherwise unkindly known as "Easy-Zee", "Zoeasy" etc. by some members of the class). So she didn't count. Maybe Josh really liked her, and was desperate to meet up with her? (Of course, Kirandeep had no idea that Zoe was lying dead less than 100 metres away, though he'd heard the explosion which had killed her)

Kirandeep settled down and started playing with the lighter again. He felt like he could murder a cigarette, actually. It was a pity he didn't carry any around with him anymore, because this would be the perfect chance to smoke it. He dismissed this thought, and concentrated on thinking of a way out of here. It was hopeless; there was no way out, aside from the obvious. Josh's back was turned, and he couldn't see Kiran from this angle…Kiran subconsciously held the ***** tightly.

Suddenly, to his left, he heard a rustling sound in the bushes. He wheeled around in alarm, before seeing a blackbird emerge. Joshua turned around too, aiming his gun at the source. He groaned, as Kiran had leapt to his feet. "It's just a bird. I almost had your head off there! Watch what you're doing!"

Kirandeep nodded slowly, and sank back down to the ground, pondering what Josh had just said.

**14:51 **

It had been almost two hours since Anne-Marie Hunt (Girl #6) had agreed to leave the house in which she was hiding with Sebastian Hall (Boy #7), but the two of them hadn't made any headway yet. Sebastian had suggested that, since they were in a relatively safe location, he should give her a chance to sleep. Anne-Marie accepted that she would need to conserve energy, but as she lay on the couch she found that she just couldn't nod off. It was no doubt due to the heavy anxiety in her chest, so she settled for simply pretending to sleep, while she listened to Sebastian moving around the house.

_Can't he just sit still?_

Anne-Marie felt slightly guilty for the way she had treated him. He was under no obligation to stay with her, help her, or anything else. Yet even after she'd admitted that she wasn't totally committed to remaining by his side for the duration of the game, he had stuck by her nonetheless.

Sebastian had struck a nerve when he'd been talking to her earlier. She _had _been bullying him, and she couldn't deny that it made her feel more powerful to do so. She'd always been so quiet; a nobody and a pushover. She couldn't afford to be like that in this game, and she'd feared that someone would have taken advantage of that if she'd been alone.

Feeling a tear trickle down her cheek, she turned her head so that Sebastian wouldn't see her crying again. This was just her luck, to be caught up in this game. Everything in her life went wrong and now she was going to die here, with nobody able to help her out. Anne-Marie felt lucky in a way; having no good friends in the class meant that she only really had to look out for herself. She didn't owe anyone in this class _anything._ She didn't know what it was about her, but she seemed to not only find it hard to socialise, but almost seemed to repel people. Meg Griffin could eat her heart out, if she were real. Anne-Marie sometimes talked to Kimberley Jones (Girl #7), who she shared a desk with in English, but she never hung out with her outside school; although she had considered becoming one of the "chavs" if it gained her a few friends. Unfortunately, she'd been indirectly rebuffed by Nicole Nicholson (Girl #10), who apparently thought Anne-Marie was a bit…weird and up herself (neither of these were true; Anne-Marie was anything but self-satisfied). Anyway, that didn't matter, because Kim and Nicole had fallen out recently, and Kim's boyfriend Ewan Stone (Boy #19) had gone off with some other girl. Anne-Marie had been glad, because if Kimberley was left alone, Anne-Marie would become the only person who she could hang out with. Unfortunately, this had only happened a few weeks before this "trip", so Anne-Marie hadn't had time to get sociable with Kimberley.

It never occurred to her that Kimberley would only have been using her. Perhaps she wouldn't even have minded. But now Kimberley was dead, her machine gun in Sebastian's hands right at this moment.

"Hey, Sebastian," Anne-Marie called out, having tired of reminiscing about how rubbish her life was, "I was thinking, do you want to get going now? It'll be dark soon, and then we'll be able to- Sebastian?" It was strange that he hadn't come into the room when she'd called. She got up from the sofa, stretching out her limbs and fingers, causing them to make a snapping noise. Brushing herself down and reaching for the revolver, she called out again. "Sebastian?"

"I'm in here." Sebastian's voice carried in from the hallway, though he sounded very quiet. Anne-Marie took hold of her gun, and ran across the room, then opened to door to the hall.

"What's-" Anne-Marie wasn't able to finish, before a vile rotting stench invaded her nostrils. It was horribly familiar. "What's that?!" she gasped, as she clutched her nose, "and why's the window open?"

Sebastian looked slightly peaky and hastily closed the window he was gazing out of, at the foot of the stairs. "I just wanted some fresh air, so I opened it just a little…and, well…" he suddenly looked extremely scared. "What if…"

"It's definitely a body, Sebastian." Anne-Marie took a deep breath. "But I- we didn't sense anything when we came here, so…" she put her hand to her mouth again, realising what Sebastian had meant. "You can't see it, can you?"

"No, but I think the wind's carrying the smell." He grabbed his daypack, which he'd dropped on the floor, and held the machine gun. "Let's go." He was trying to be brave, but Anne-Marie could see his lip trembling. She nodded silently.

Within ten seconds, the two of them had exited by the back door, they way they had entered. Each aimed their gun to the sides, in case anyone was lurking. They both noticed the smoke rising in the air, only a little way to the south. They could have been able to smell burning, if the wind wasn't blowing southeast. Anne-Marie pointed her finger in the direction of the fire and held up two fingers. "Two minutes. We'll see what that is later." As she proceeded to turn around the corner of the house, Sebastian stretched his arm out, blocking her way. "What are you-?"

"Shhh!" he hissed, "what if…there's someone there? The…killer?"

"I don't think so. Why would they stay with the body?" Nonetheless, she dropped her voice to a barely-audible whisper. "But keep the gun ready."

The smell of the rotted flesh and blood was becoming stronger. The two of them edged down the path extremely slowly, Sebastian taking the lead. Sebastian was half-relieved that he had forgotten to close the gate that led to the garden of the end house; to open it would have made a noise. He slipped through the gap, and was almost at the front of the house. There was a wall which seemed to have been built for no purpose, just to his left. There was no body in sight so they must be behind the brick wall. He continued forward, motioning to Anne-Marie to follow, which of course she did. They were so close to it now, treading over the mud and grass, probably making enough noise for anyone waiting in ambush to hear. Sebastian turned his head around to face whoever was on the other side, aiming the gun.

His heart did a several backflips as a small girl clad all in black shrieked and turned to face him, tears in her eyes. She was leaning over a body which Sebastian could not identify, but the girl who was quickly scrabbling to her knees was-

"Violet MacDonald (Girl #9)!" Anne-Marie gasped. "What's going-"

"No!" Violet had now managed to stand up, completely caked in dried blood and dirt. Her eyes grew wide and she began shaking in panic. "Please don't kill me! I didn't do it! I- no! Look; she's been stabbed and I don't have a knife!" When Anne-Marie and Sebastian did not respond immediately, she took a quick glance to her left and turned to run.

"Stop or I'll shoot you!" this was Anne-Marie. Violet froze in her tracks, before sinking to the ground, and beginning to sob violently. For the moment, Sebastian and Anne-Marie ignored her and rushed over to the female body which was lying face up in the mud. Belle Orbison (Girl #11)'s eyes had been closed, but her face still registered a slight expression of shock. Her body reeked, naturally, but right now nobody cared about that. Belle had never been a shy girl, exactly, but she'd always seemed immature for her age, and liked to play video games and such. She was good friends with Violet, though, which made it seem all the less likely that the girl Anne-Marie had just threatened was the culprit. However…

"I don't see any wounds." Sebastian turned to Violet, who looked back at him. She seemed to have gotten over her moment of hysteria, but she still looked a little unstable. Oddly, she wasn't carrying a weapon, but an umbrella, of all things, had could be seen half-buried in mud.

"It's on her back," Violet responded. "When I found her, she was…I couldn't just leave her face down in the dirt!" She looked desperately at Sebastian and Anne-Marie, as though begging them to believe her. Sebastian walked over to her and hugged her tightly.

"It's okay," he said soothingly, though he was begging to cry too, "we believe you. Right Anne-Marie?" The two broke their embrace, and looked over at Anne-Marie, still kneeling beside Belle's body. She nodded, though she wasn't quite finished with Violet yet; she intended to get the full story.

"So, where's your weapon, Violet?" she asked rather accusatively.

Violet blinked in surprise, and then looked confused as if she didn't quite understand what Anne-Marie meant. Then she said "oh, well I got this…" she unzipped her jacket to reveal a Kevlar vest. Anne-Marie didn't know the name, but she guessed it was bulletproof. Her eyes were drawn to the very obvious circular shaped tear in the area just above Violet's stomach.

"How did you-?"

Violet's response was immediate, and her tone was dark and important. "Janine (Carter, Girl #3) shot me! She didn't realise I was wearing this…but she killed Lucy (Edmonton, Girl #4)!"

"Are you sure?!" Sebastian asked, completely stunned. "Are you okay?" He sounded incredibly concerned, as Violet nodded.

Anne-Marie was pretty shocked, too. "So how did you get away from her? Were you with Lucy?"

Sebastian frowned at Anne-Marie. "Hey, she's been through enough, could you give her a break?"

"I'm only asking!" Sebastian's stupidity was beginning to annoy her. Didn't he even realise how dangerous this situation was? For all he'd known, Violet could have knifed him when he'd grabbed her without even thinking. "Well?" she raised her eyebrows, directing the question at Violet, whose breathing seemed to be returning to normal.

"No. I heard Janine and Lucy shouting, so I went to see what was going on. By the time I got close, Lucy saw me and Janine…she shot me! I heard Lucy shout that…" she paused and seemed to concentrate, recollecting her thoughts. "I heard Lucy say 'you killed her' and then I managed to get away without them seeing me and then I heard the gun go off. I heard Lucy's name in the announcement and not Janine's, so…"

"I knew it!" Sebastian snarled, "Janine's a bitch. I'm not even surprised."

"Hold on a minute," Anne-Marie raised her hand, silencing him, "so you didn't actually _see_ her kill Lucy?"

Violet looked exasperated. "Well, _no, _but I _heard_ her do it straight after I started running. Besides; she shot me and I'd done nothing!"

"Well…" Anne-Marie couldn't really argue with that. "But what are you doing _here?"_ Then her voice grew quieter,"do you have any idea who killed Belle?"

Violet shook her head, and gazed over at her fallen friend. She explained where she'd spent the night, and that she hadn't seen anyone else since the game began. It seemed a perfectly reasonable story. "I only just found her a few minutes ago, after I'd been wandering around. I don't know what to do. I don't know who killed her, but if I find out…" a small amount of rage crept into her voice, and she gritted her teeth, "I'll kill them! How- _how could they?! _She was my best friend…one of them anyway."

Sebastian patted her on the shoulder. "I know, I know…" he whispered soothingly. "It's alright…I have an idea! We've got three guns; you can have one of ours!" He darted over to his daypack, obviously intending to present Violet with the Taurus PT24/7. His hand reached for the zip, when Anne-Marie grabbed his arm. "What are you doing, Anne-Marie? She's-"

"I'm not sure it's a good idea to give her the gun," Anne-Marie lowered her voice, and looked Sebastian sternly in the eye. "We need it, just in case. Couldn't we just give her the poker?"

"Are you serious?! She needs it! We've got our own. Now get off, Anne-Marie!" he brushed her arm away and snatched the daypack. He unzipped it, and tossed the gun to Violet, who failed to catch it and bent down to pick it up. She looked suspicious.

"Where did you get this?" she asked in a whisper, "we all only got one weapon…" then her eyes fell quickly on the guns that the other two had at hand. They weren't aiming at her, and Anne-Marie suddenly knew what was going to happen, but was too late. Attempting to raise her gun, she was forced to stop dead when Violet pointed the Taurus (which had originally belonged to Anne-Marie) at her chest.

"Violet, what the fuck are you-" Sebastian shouted at her.

Violet licked her lips, and for a moment looked quite insane. Anne-Marie could feel her heart thumping in her chest, as Violet's gun threatened to burst it. She remained completely quiet.

"Look! I don't care how you got this, but right now you're going to let me just walk away, alright?!" She looked at Sebastian and Anne-Marie in turn, as though expecting a nod from each of them. Anne-Marie gave several readily, but Sebastian just looked furious.

"You- you- drop the gun right now, Violet! I'm warning you…"

"Leave it, Sebastian," Anne-Marie urged, not taking her eyes of Violet, "this is what you wanted, right? If you stop talking then she'll go away."

"Shut up!" screamed Violet, "how do you have the nerve to- to- question me, when you've obviously killed other people yourself?! Or, or…stolen weapons?"

"Why don't you shut the fuck up and listen to yourself?!" Anne-Marie retorted, "If we were playing the game, why did we give you the gun, dipshit?"

"_You _didn't want me to have it! You just wanted me to wander off and die, didn't you?" she was crying frantically now, but her aim remained focused on Anne-Marie. "Don't think that I didn't hear you!"

"Well, you wouldn't have needed the gun if you'd just come with us!" Sebastian argued back. "That's all she meant."

"Actually, no, that wasn't the reason," Anne-Marie replied. "I just didn't want you to…do something stupid with it. I didn't want you tagging along at all; actually, you're obviously completely mental!"

Violet looked shocked and then saddened, "you really thought that I'd kill myself…?" she lowered the gun, just for an instant.

BANG!

"Violet! Anne-Marie!" Sebastian turned his head from one to the other, unsure what to do in that instant. Anne-Marie knew what to do, though. She's pulled back the hammer and instantly fired the gun at Violet the moment she'd let her guard down. She had only been a few feet away, and Anne-Marie didn't need any particular target. Violet had ended up with a bullet crashing into the vest just beneath her sternum; she'd been very lucky. Of course, the she'd toppled to the ground.

Anne-Marie ran over, and stood on her right arm. Violet cried out in pain, as Anne-Marie prised the gun out of her hands, before aiming both that one and the revolver at Violet's head.

"Anne-Marie, don't-!"

"Please, Anne-Marie I would never have-!"

"Shut up, both of you!" Anne-Marie spat, before turning to Sebastian. "Get your bag and let's go. We're done here. We're going to see who started the fire, right? And with _three _guns, we'll be fine." She allowed Violet to get up, and waited for her to say something.

"Sebastian…you know I…" she pleaded, her face absolutely terrified. "I would never kill-"

"What about us?!," he looked at her in contempt. "You should know that we would never "kill" either." He continued to look at her, pityingly.

"Come on, Sebastian. It's getting dark." Anne-Marie took a glance at her surroundings. The forest was dense, and there were very few streetlamps around here. In the sky, the sun was disappearing, and an orange glow illuminated the faces of the three students standing there. "Don't try to follow us." Anne-Marie advised Violet, "I'm glad that shot didn't hurt you- I mean it- but if you weren't wearing the jacket-thing, I'd have shot you anyway. But you can have the poker if you want." She didn't mean this in a sly way, but it was hard to make her voice sound sincere. She reached into her own daypack and withdrew the old, metal poker she had found in Kimberley Jones. She cautiously held it out for Violet to take hold of, the latter girl looking very depressed indeed. Anne-Marie let go of a breath she didn't realise that she'd been holding, and wiped some sweat off her forehead, not quite believing what she'd just been able to do.

"Thank you," was all Violet said, as she quietly turned her back and headed into the forest, poker in hand. Her black hair blew behind her, and the effect would have been quite romantic. Sebastian and Anne-Marie watched her go, until she disappeared from sight. She did not look back.

**15:29**

"Kirandeep." Joshua Johnson sighed and turned to his friend, who started in alarm. The two boys had continued to wait by the fire for over half an hour, but nobody had shown up. Not a word had passed between them for quite a while, but they had exchanged startled expressions when they had heard the sound of a gun, not too far away. Perhaps someone else was dead. "Do you have any ideas that might help us to get out of here? I really can't think of any."

Kirandeep was still sitting a few feet away from Joshua, but faced his back. He considered the question, and then relayed his thoughts pertaining to this matter in his head. Option 1: Escape by boat? That was, ultimately, the only way off the island, unless some helicopter randomly appeared. There were bound to be a dozens of canoes, rowboats, and the like all around the island. But these meant nothing unless they could find a way to free themselves from the collars. Their movements were being constantly monitored, and if anyone saw a bunch of students in a zone out to sea, then they'd surely activate it. Kiran was at a complete loss about those collars. Option 2: Find a way to kill Miss Rothman, the Instructor and his underlings, _then _escape by boat. This was even less likely. No-one other than the competing students were moving about the island. The hall where they had left from was in a zone that had gone active soon after the departure of Sebastian Hall (Boy #7). Even if some way to lure them out was found, none of them could enter the area to disable the collars without blowing their heads off in the process. Therefore…

"No, I can't think of anything. Sorry."

"Shit. Then again, you'd have told me if you had, right?" Joshua looked directly into Kiran's eyes in a way which unnerved him. Josh had put just a little too much stress on the word _right._ Even more surprising, Kiran realised that Josh was actually waiting for an answer.

"Yeah…of course I would."

Joshua looked away, and curled up again. "I don't know what to do," he said, "I thought this wouldn't be so hard but it is, and I can't…see any way out of it." Kirandeep could tell that he was starting to cry. His shoulders shook ever so slightly. "You know, Kirandeep, I can't understand why they chose _us._ I mean, we- the class- aren't that bad are we?"

"No, I never thought so," Kirandeep paused to think, "well, none of us are perfect but there are much worse classes and schools. I think it's just bad fucking luck that we were travelling this way. The classes that they pick are random." It was obvious that this wasn't making Joshua feel much better, so he asked, gently; "how about we go back, now? Anyone who wanted to join us would have come by now. Do you want-?"

"I want to go home!" Josh moaned, "You take everything you've got for granted- I never thought I'd die now," he stopped short, "and I'm not going to." He said no more, and continued to look out wearily at the flickering flames.

Kirandeep, on the contrary, felt his heart pounding in his chest. Was this a particularly violent mood swing? Or…

"What do you mean? You wanna wait here for someone with a plan to come along? Maybe, back at the house, they've already-"

"Why didn't they send out a signal, then?" Joshua's eyes flashed angrily.

Kirandeep remained patient, with difficulty. "Well…maybe if…I don't know," he admitted. Then he moved on to something more delicate, "was there any reason you wanted to find other people. Was there someone you…like Zoe?"

"Don't be a dick. Of course not. You can't love anyone at fifteen, not in this country anyway." Joshua bowed his head, "what about Andrew (King, Boy #13) and Serena (Girl #20)? Do you think they were together when they died? I don't think they were in love, though. It would be nice if they were."

Kirandeep remembered how Andrew had run off at the beginning of the game, before any of them had had the chance to call out. Stacey Phillips (Girl #12) had been too busy trying to convince Josh, Kiran and Michael (Hill, Boy #10) to let her join up with them. Kiran had the feeling that Michael had been holding that against her.

"Josh…I don't know about that. But," he thought of something encouraging to say, "You never know. There may be life after death…"

"So you think we _are _going to die?"

"One day, yeah," Kiran answered facetiously, "but…"

"I don't believe in that shit. When you die, that's it. The end. But it's not going to happen to me for a long, long time. I'll make sure of that."

This statement made Kirandeep very afraid, and suddenly he knew what was coming. If Joshua couldn't be placated, then he'd end up playing this game. In his head, he'd always known it would come to this. The way he, Kiran, had been made to kill Christopher Day proved that this was a kill or be killed situation. It may not be long before Joshua went completely out of control, so he had to go against everything his personality dictated he should to and stop Josh now. For all he knew, Josh had planned to coax people into coming here only to kill them…but Kiran couldn't quite believe that.

Kirandeep still held the candlestick. It didn't look like much, but it was certainly heavy enough to deal a powerful blow. Even if it didn't kill him immediately, one attempt would knock him down, and a few more would finish him off.

Kirandeep's insides turned to ice, and he began to feel moderately sick at the idea of what he was about to do. But he had _no choice._ Going against a gun in a one-on-one fight would be impossible. So he crouched, extremely quietly, and moved forward, his entire body beginning to shake. His hand managing a grip on the candlestick he lifted it up, only a metre or so away from Joshua's head.

_I…never realised he had a balding patch, already…_

"Thanks for coming here with me, Kiran; I know that I never said it but…yeah."

This was so unexpected that Kirandeep felt he may fall over. _What?!_

Of course, this hadn't been an easy thing for Joshua to say, so he hadn't dared to try to look Kirandeep in the face while saying it. More's the relief.

_I…don't understand…why did you say that now?! I can't kill you now, damn it!_

"Joshua, behind you!"

This female voice came from nowhere, and Kiran certainly couldn't immediately locate it's owner as he looked around for her. Of course, Kiran was not the only one to look around…

In truth, Kirandeep hadn't had time to comprehend what this girl had exclaimed, due to the sudden shock breaking the unbearable tension. So, when Joshua Johnson turned around, all he could see was Kirandeep Khan holding a silver candlestick above his head, in a position to strike. Kiran had completely forgotten about this.

"Josh?! I-"

BANG the second shot rang out over the island in less than fifteen minutes as Joshua hurriedly pulled back the hammer of his revolver, striking Kirandeep just above his heart. This shock to the system really _did_ cause Kiran to collapse to the ground. Josh leapt to his feet, standing over Kiran as he slid to the bottom of the mound, both boys' faces registering utter confusion. Kirandeep stared up at Joshua, who was stammering some unintelligible gibberish, then he smiled, ever so slightly, as the rest of his face writhed in pain, though he did his best to control it.

"Josh…you're ri-right…there are no-no- winners…but I didn't…think that far…ahead, and I forgot…"

Blood poured and poured out of his chest, his arteries and veins quickly empting. In a matter of seconds, his heart became completely starved of oxygen. He lay be the fire as his speech was cut off, feeling the warmth spreading over his body as he had so desired.

Joshua Johnson stood, gazing at him, utterly bewildered as to what he had meant.

**15:40: Surviving Contestants: 27**


	17. Women Woes

**January 16****th**** 15:40**

Nina Fox (Girl #5) stood strategically within a large clump of bushes, her back facing the eastern coast. She was taking a bit of a gamble by being in this location, but on the other hand, there was little to no chance of anyone attacking her from behind as she had proceeded north in order to find out who exactly was responsible for starting the fire that burned brightly up ahead of her. The zone to the south had turned active quite a while ago now, so nobody would be in the vicinity. She'd been drawn to the smoke some time ago, but it had taken her at least an hour to safely make it across from the west to this area. However, those thoughts had evaporated now, as she contemplated just what exactly her next move would be. Nina had witnessed Kirandeep Khan (Boy #12) holding some kind of heavy object above Joshua Johnson (Boy #11)'s head, clearly distraught. Then she'd heard Josh say something to Kiran, confirming her assumption that the two of them were together. That was when she'd called out. It was like something from a fucking pantomime. This had only happened seconds ago.

_Okay…Kirandeep was definitely trying to kill Josh, so I did the right thing._

Now, Kiran was dead; shot in the chest by Josh. The latter boy owed his life to the beautiful, mysterious girl who had risked her own life to protect him. Well, that was the theory, anyway. Nina hadn't really thought far enough ahead to wonder what Josh would do to _her_ now. He had a gun, obviously. Nina held a dangerous-looking jack-knife, which would, admittedly, be fairly useless if she came across a lunatic with a gun.

_Not necessarily a lunatic, _she reminded herself_, some people are just as sane as I am, and are going to want to survive this. Maybe I'm no different to them._

At any rate, it seemed as though Joshua wasn't bothered about her presence; he certainly hadn't rushed to see where she was. She couldn't see him from where she stood roughly 20 metres away; Kirandeep's body had slid over the other side of the mound, and Josh had rushed down after it.

Nina Fox didn't feel particularly sorry for Kirandeep in that instant, it had to be said. Why should she? Kiran had tried to kill his best friend, and yet he'd seemed so close to Josh. If she'd known about Christopher Day (Boy #5)'s grizzly end, she may have had even less sympathy. Or possibly more; she certainly wouldn't have put up with being shot at, especially by that embarrassment of an ex-boyfriend…Anyway, she wasn't glad he was dead, but now that he was, it made her own chances of survival increase, so that was something positive.

Nina had no intention of killing anyone herself, however. Stunning and charming though she knew she was, Nina would never have considered herself so superior that she'd bump people off without a thought. Besides, she'd been hoping that whoever that started the fire- which turned out to be Kiran and Josh, apparently- would know of a way off the island; she hadn't given up hope yet. Actually, she applauded herself for having been so brave as to try and approach them. Up until just over an hour ago, she'd hidden in a house next door to the island's convenience store- kind of like a co-op- and had remained alone throughout.

For a few minutes, she waited to see if Joshua Johnson would emerge and her mind was overtaken with curiosity. But nothing happened, and she collected her thoughts together. Gradually, she began to creep quietly away from the scene that had become a non-scene; it was as if nothing had happened here. Tears sprung to her eyes the instant she began to count just how bad her situation had become.

_I'm on an island. Without any hope of escape. I have only a knife to defend myself with. Some of my classmates are dead. I'm completely on my own. I could have just blown any chance of getting off this shitty rock. Josh may want to confront me at any moment…did he know my voice?_

"Nina!" the voice was so loud and passionate; Nina was surprised the whole island didn't hear it. Maybe they did, actually. Nina whirled around in shock, her large brown eyes- which matched her hair colour, incidentally- were wide with fear.

Her view of Josh was obscured by several bushes and trees, but he'd definitely seen her. He was standing at the top of the very mound on which he'd shot Kiran. The fire burned brightly behind him, making him appear slightly demonic.

Nina swallowed, and clutched her knife more tightly, though it was of course not a great deal of help to her. Her eyes darted left. If she could make it over the road then she'd be able to escape him. Going right was impossible; she'd end up running right into a danger zone. Feeling her heart pounding, she chose to reply instead.

"Wh-what?" The word escaped her mouth as barely more than a squeak, so there was no way that Josh could have heard it. He must have seen her mouth move, however, because he was now moving towards her, swinging his arms and trampling on the plants. Nina stood stock still, horrified to see that his expression wasn't pleasant. Tears ran down his face, which was positively red, and he clenched his fists. Nina's eyes focused entirely on the gun, but as she tried to move backwards, she found that she couldn't. It was like in an exciting nightmare, which you knew wasn't real towards the end, in which you found yourself running, but as if underwater, because you were at such a slow speed…that's what it felt like to Nina now. Her knees began to tremble, and she was inwardly cursing them; how dare they fail her now? _Move, you little fuckers!_

"J-Josh?" she stammered and then found herself laughing, of all things, "a-are you…okay?" Josh's eyes narrowed further, and Nina broke into a preposterous fit of giggles, as he continued to approach her. Now, her voice became panicky as she saw him raising the gun with his right hand. "No! I didn't mean for you to shoot Kiran! Wait, no, I won't tell anyone! Look, just…he was going to kill you! I…" she'd run out of things to say. He was only a few feet away. It was at this point that Nina suddenly found her feet again. Logically, Nina could never have escaped; she'd just be shot at. Then again, he could have just shot her there and then. However…she turned tail, but before she could even take one step, she felt a hand close around her wrist.

"AHHHHHH! Let go of me!!" she shrieked, and made to turn and stab him with her jack-knife, but his grip was too strong, and she couldn't move. _This is it…I'm going to die here! No, please, no…why did I have to save your life, you piece of shit?! Help me…someone…_

He pulled her back, and she wailed once again. However, as Nina prepared to let out the loudest scream she'd ever screamed, she felt his left arm- the one which he was holding the gun in- wrap around her waist, pulling her towards him. For one absolutely horrifying moment, Nina thought he was going to force himself on her, but although alarm bells were ringing in her head, she could just about make out what it was that he was whispering to her, and she began to relax.

"Nina," he hissed sharply, "I'm not going to hurt you, but you've got to be quiet, okay?! Calm down!" he repeated, over and over, until her breathing grew steadier, and she collapsed to her knees. Nina looked up at him, but averted her eyes when she saw the pistol, though Joshua didn't drop it.

"I…I'm sorry, Josh. I must've sounded a little…crazy, eh?" She finished the sentence of with another disconcerting giggle. "For a second there," she looked at him imploringly, "I thought you were going to kill me. But you…won't, right?" her eyes focused directly on his. He didn't reply, so she continued: "I never wanted you to kill Kirandeep, but he was going to kill you!"

"I know!" he spat, "But now he's dead and I'm glad! I want to help him get off the island, and he tries to repay me by-"

"Get off the island?" Nina felt her heart rate increase. "Is there a way? Tell me!" she leapt up and shook Joshua by the shoulders. This was a trick she used on her father to get her own way; men could never resist a needy, pretty girl. Now, of course, this was genuine, and Nina had never pleaded for something she needed quite as desperately as she did now.

Joshua frowned at her. "I didn't say that!" he shook her off, "but I hoped that I could find someone who could think of a way-"

"So you and Kiran set the fire."

He nodded, and at that moment looked so despondent that Nina was very aware of the gun in his hand. She'd never have believed that Joshua Johnson could look so vulnerable. He fought back tears- brave soldier- and pursed his lips. "There's more of us. I mean, Kiran and me were part of a group, but we left them to try and get other people, you know? So I was wondering…if you wanted to come back with me. Stacey's with us, if that helps."

Nina gasped in surprise, and exhaled in relief. Stacey Phillips (Girl #12) was her best friend. The two of them did everything together; too cool for the clique- or so they thought. Stacey was fierce, no doubt about that, and completely open and real. Nina, with her cattiness and beauty, provided the femininity in the duo, so no other girls could touch them as far as one-upmanship was concerned. They rarely fought- they were too different for that. It was other people who they targeted, in truth…girls, mainly. This was why Nina probably would not have approached Josh and Kiran, were they female. But that didn't matter now, surely?

Then Nina was ashamed. Ashamed that she hadn't thought of looking for Stacey, despite everything. In fact, she'd barely given her a second thought since the game began, assuming that she'd be alright. Well, now she didn't have to go on assuming any longer. She smiled up at Joshua.

"Sure," she nodded, "I suppose you're not going to risk letting your guard down with me, though." Nina glanced over at where she supposed Josh's body was; unintentionally but still horribly crass. Josh's mouth twisted, and in that instant debated about telling her about Chris, but decided she didn't need to know.

"Yeah. But I'm keeping the gun, have you got that? I wasn't sure whether to trust Stacey, and you're not like her…so you'll have to accept that. I just killed my _best friend_. So if you try anything…"

Nina sensed weakness; killing Kirandeep had shaken him hard, so she doubted he'd kill her. She'd tried to stab him after all. Unless they were attacked, she'd be fine until they got back to…wherever Stacey and the 'others'- she presumed them to be Josh's group, since none of them were dead yet- were.

"I won't try anything. And thank you." She suddenly realised that Josh had not shown any gratitude at all. Although, she was fighting for her life out here, so she didn't really care. She couldn't wait to see Stacey's face when she saw her.

* * *

**16:00**

Back at the hall, the Instructor was in conversation with two of his subordinates, Alexander Smith and Joe Anderson. Unlike Estella Rothman, the Instructor actually enjoyed being in the company of his colleagues, and referred to them by their first names. At home, he was the only man- with his wife and daughter- so it was nice to have a bit of 'male bonding', so to speak. They were in the upper room in which the technological equipment was located, and as he took a drag of another Marlboro red, he gestured to the monitor at which Anderson was working.

"Any recent activity you can make out?" The Instructor wasn't too keen on the game progressing all that quickly, however, there was not a lot else to talk about when you were on near-constant duty.

Anderson brought up the student database to check the number allocated to each student. On the digital map of the island, the icon representing Kirandeep- M12- had flashed red, and upon checking the statistics of the collar- frequency of heart rate, etc- all signs of life had disappeared. Kirandeep Khan was very definitely dead. "Well, apart from Kirandeep Khan's death twenty minutes ago, nothing. Although Joshua Johnson and Nina Fox appear to have joined up- they're both moving out of zone I-11 right now- but…you'd think that he'd have killed her by now, if he decided to compete. Nina Fox..." he checked the database again…"only has a knife. I'm certain that Johnson has a gun, however."

The Instructor raised his eyebrows. "Someone's been doing his homework. I'm impressed with your cognizance, Joe. Though you've always been an asset, so I really shouldn't be surprised. I may even put in your name for promotion."

Joe Anderson was a thirty-four year old, slightly out shape physically and mentally. Although, he was very competent and experienced in his profession, so he had been hoping to rise through the ranks, just a little bit.

"Really, sir?" he sounded a little over-enthusiastic; the boss may even have been joking. "Thank you, that would be much appreciated."

"Oh, it's nothing, really. It'll be a shame to lose you, though. I know that during most of the year you work in…the police force? But you're still with the grunts- no offence- and you can be better than that. You won't be able to work for my unit any more, but…well, that's the price of success, I suppose."

The Instructor turned to Alexander Smith, and furrowed his silver brows. "Alex!" he barked. "Get back to work, and stop eavesdropping!"

Alex gave an unintentional jump, and stammered, "S-sorry, sir! I'll just-" he began tapping random keys on the board, and flushed in embarrassment, trying to look as though he was really concentrating on the task in hand. Both the Instructor and Joe burst out laughing, and Alex scratched his red stubbly head in further shame, before realising that the Instructor was smiling at him fondly.

"Hey, Smith. He's just kidding!" Joe reached over and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Don't get so worried!"

_Easy for you to say, _Alex thought,_ you've just got a big promotion lined up. Shit, this job is awful…_

"Umm, sir?" he almost raised his hand, but managed to stop himself before he made an even greater fool of himself.

"Yes?" asked Joe and the Instructor simultaneously. Both started guffawing again.

"Not, yet you're not! I'm the only 'sir' around here!" The Instructor pointed a finger of mock-warning at Joe, before acknowledging Alex again. "What is it, Alex?"

"I was just wondering…" Alex trailed of feeling a little stupid again, but then his stomach gave a mighty rumble, which spoke for him. "Uh, yeah…it's just that I haven't had anything to eat since this morning, so-"

"You're right, actually." The Instructor spoke seriously, "I'm feeling a bit peckish, now that you mention it." He stubbed out his cigarette and left it in the ashtray. "Those slackers have had a long enough break- what are they doing anyway? I haven't any noise for quite a while."

"Maybe they've gone to bed?" volunteered Joe. "A couple of them were up all night. But…I think they're probably playing cards or something like that. Do you want me to-?"

The Instructor shook his head firmly. "No, Estella will do it. She hasn't been pulling her weight around here and it's high time she did. Actually, she can cook the meal herself, never mind round up the gang to get it done. She does an excellent Spaghetti Bolognese- and I'm sick of ready-made meals already."

This seemed like an odd thing for his boss to say, but Alex was cheered up slightly by the prospect of a slap-up meal, and the Instructor's positive attitude. He had to agree about Miss Rothman- he assumed that was who 'Estella' was, since she was the only female resident-, who didn't seem to have done anything since yesterday. Not that there was much to do, but still…he'd figured a young woman would have had to be something pretty exceptional to land a job like this. His train of thought was cut off as he heard a familiar clomping sound coming up the stairs.

_Nice, timing, Estella._

"As if she read our minds." The Instructor stood up to open the door for the young lady who was standing right behind it, about to open it herself. Alex looked at her: without a completely furious expression on her face, and her hair and clothes immaculate, she really was very attractive. She narrowed her eyes as she realised the three men in the room were looking at her expectantly.

"What?" she drew her shoulders up, as if to tell them that she didn't understand their expressions. "Should my ears be burning? I only came in here to see what was going on; it was getting very tedious sitting alone in m room, with nothing to do."

"Miss Rothman," the Instructor fixed his eyes onto hers, and spoke in a familiar kind but firm voice. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, the boys and I are keen to sample some of that Italian food you're so famous for. Shall we say…will it be ready by five?"

Miss Rothman's face turned stormy. "I'm not a chef! Why should I-?"

"Because I asked you to. There's plenty of spaghetti and sauce in the kitchen for the eight of us. While you're at it, you can crack open the vodka. We might as well enjoy ourselves."

"Fine," she said in a stroppy voice, her lips twisting. "It's not like I've got anything else to be getting on with." Then she frowned. "Vodka? What church hall stashes high-octane booze?"

The Instructor smiled darkly, and turned to the computers. "Did you know that Kirandeep Khan's died?"

Miss Rothman shook her head. "No, I didn't. When? How?"

"Twenty minutes ago, and we think he was shot by Joshua Johnson. Anyway, that doesn't matter. Let's just say that the bill for the booze'll be fitted Kiran's dad. The prodigal son'll never get the chance to turn eighteen and legitimately pay for it."

This won a smirk from Miss Rothman. "Waste not, want not. I'll bet there's more where that came from." She looked directly at Smith, addressing him. "But are you old enough to drink?"

The Instructor and Anderson looked at the flame-haired man, no doubt expecting him to flush and stammer again, but Smith laughed it off, trying to be confident. "If I you are, Miss Rothman, then so am I."

Smith's imagination may have been playing tricks on him, but he swore that Miss Rothman was grinning. Then the smile vanished. "I could drink you under the table, Smith. Don't you get cocky, it doesn't suit you."

At this point, Joe Anderson felt an eerie sense of déjà vu, and knew perfectly well why. Wasn't repeating a phrase the sign of insecurity?

Smith couldn't tell whether Miss Rothman was joking or not, so smiled awkwardly and returned to the computer. Miss Rothman continued speaking to him, however.

"You look tired, Smith. How long have you been working for? You should rest; if you don't, you might screw up your job."

"I'm fine," he responded quickly.

Miss Rothman paused for a moment. "Fine, I'll just go and get started on the spaghetti then, like a fucking skivvy…" She left the room, pulling to door closed sharply. The sound of footsteps disappeared a few seconds later.

"I think she likes you, Alex," was all that the Instructor said.

* * *

**16:08: Surviving Contestants: 27**


	18. True Lies

**January 16****th**** 16:10**

Although the air was crisp and the sun had now set, there was little chance of Michelle Ashanti (Girl #1) rushing off to find a building in which to stay for the night. She was in the southern, flatter area of the island, far away from the cottage outside of which she'd killed Andrew King (Boy #13) and Serena Wells (Girl #20), and she had no intention of cornering herself in the same manner that they had. Besides, she had no need stay in a closed environment with Peter Mortimer (Boy #15) accompanying her.

_Fuck…I can't believe it's come to this…_

She and Peter had spent the whole afternoon covertly moving around the island, in search of any other classmates who Michelle would either, theoretically, kill or use Peter as a shield against if any of them tried to attack her. She had been unable to wash off the blood which had splattered onto her sweater, so the option of meeting someone and feigning complete obliviousness to any action was gone (she could have just taken it off, but that would be ludicrous in this weather). Hours had gone by and they had found nobody, but had heard a few shots fired, so the game was well on its way. They had also noticed the smoke coming from the large bonfire on the east coast, but Michelle had refused to go near it. She hadn't deliberately sought out Andrew and Serena, they had just fallen into her lap, and killing people was, she had discovered, far more difficult than she had previously expected. Anyway, whoever had started the fire must have been preying on the other students and if not, they were some delusional kid trying team up with a friend to find a way off the island, but Michelle wasn't prepared to believe that there was one.

_Too late now, anyway…_

She had shot Andrew and Serena in cold blood, and at the time hadn't thought too much of it. It was necessary, in order to survive, but the image of Andrew's frozen face kept replaying itself over and over in Michelle's head, to the point where she started to cry, imagining someone doing the same to her. She's never been powerless in her entire life, and the very thought of such helplessness terrified her. Through her tears, she looked over at the bushes where Peter was sleeping, and was glad that he wasn't seeing her get upset. She hadn't meant for them to stop here, but when Peter sat down and immediately nodded off, she felt as though she might as well take the chance to think things through.

This was the perfect place in which to do it. The woodland was sparser here, but there were plenty of openings where she could flee if someone came along. Michelle guessed that this was where the islanders had once spent there time walking their dogs, given that there was a manmade path beneath her feet. Further to her left there was a babbling brook underneath a wooden bridge, which flowed from the mountains and perhaps ran eventually into a pond. On her way here, Michelle had also passed a kids' park, complete with swings and slides. Peter had asked her whether they could go and play on them, to which Michelle had clipped him on the shoulder as an answer. This was something she half-regretted. The thought of being an innocent child, whose only worries lay with the grazes on her knees, now seemed so appealing. As a sportswoman, Michelle constantly had cuts and bruises, so she wasn't particularly worried about roughing it in the woods, but she was concerned about the cold. Having spent the previous night in a building, she didn't know how low temperatures fell, but she was willing to bet that they could be below zero. Well, she'd worry about that later.

Her thoughts turned to her classmates. She wondered who else it could be that was playing the game. _Peter, obviously. Peter's little posse of pricks, perhaps? Yeah. They were both still alive, as of the last announcement. Who else? Probably some of the weak nerds, who'd caved in to the pressure. Violet McDonald (Girl #9)'s probably the type._ _Joshua Johnson (Boy #11)? Nina Fox, the bitch from hell? Doesn't matter, anyway._

Michelle knew that there were certain people to look out for, and that she wouldn't be able to get past them all so easily. This was, after all, the whole reason she had taken Peter hostage in the first place, but now, she was wondering whether it was even worth it to keep him alive. Now, while he slept, she'd be able to do it quickly and quietly. With the short sword she held in her hand, she'd just slit his throat and-

She suddenly heard a snore behind her, and leapt around with her gun pointed before realising that it was only Peter. In the hours they had spent together, there mutual hatred of the other had dissipated somewhat, Michelle seeing him as a grudging necessity, and he seemed to have simply stopped bothering to complain about his predicament. Instead, he'd started asking her irritating questions concerning her family, and how they'd feel knowing that she was participating in the game. Michelle had answered honestly: she knew her parents would be devastated, and would want nothing more than to have her back safely, regardless of the cost. _Any parent would feel like that, so stop asking stupid questions _she had answered. Immediately, though, she wished she hadn't, remembering that Peter's mother had died when he was little, and that he'd been brought up mostly in care. Looking at him now, sleeping peacefully, Michelle saw Peter, for the first time, as a 15-year-old child, rather than a hardened thug. However, he was very dangerous, she knew that, and he was replenishing his lost energy right now, while she would gradually start flagging and lose concentration. Netball and athletics would only take her so far. Therefore, she wasn't about to soften towards him quite yet.

Michelle tried to forget about her current situation, and relax a little. She needn't bother trying to analyse Peter Mortimer. He'd just have to do exactly as he was told until the time came. She found it impossible not to be scared in this environment, but as she looked out over the flowing stream, and could hear nothing but the running of the water, and the wind blowing through the trees. As she regarded the cloudy sky, she felt a certain peace with the world, somewhere deep inside, which she had not felt for a long time. The wind helpfully blew a strand of her mane-like hair out of her face. She was no beauty, but her looks had never concerned her, unlike the other girls her age. She had no interest in anyone who cared about appearances, and boys weren't stupid enough not to be able to see physical imperfections, so why spend her time tarting herself up, just because she was female? In her view, 15-year-olds didn't go for ball-busting, six-foot black girls in any case.

_Feminism? No, just common sense and reality, really._

Anyway, Michelle was clearly no romantic by any means, but if there was one good thing about Survivor, it was that it had made her understand just how precious her life was- which gave her all the more determination to win. Perhaps some day she could get married and- well, she'd think twice about ever having kids now.

Peter's snoring grew louder, until it got to the point that Michelle was genuinely worried that this alone could give away their location. She moved closer to his sprawled-out body, and began gently prodding his back with her foot.

"Peter," she said in a hushed voice. The snoring and grunting only grew louder. "_Peter!_"she hissed loudly, "wake up! I-", she stopped mid-sentence, kneeled down and poked him so sharply in the spine with her gun that he actually yelped. He rolled around and glared at her, though his glasses had been stained with grass, so he looked even stupider than usual.

"Michelle, what the fuck?!"

Michelle snarled, "Nice try, dick. You could have at least made your snoring a bit more convincing. I can _tell _that you haven't been asleep by the look in your eyes. You're not even groggy."

Peter's mouth twisted angrily, "I _was_ asleep, and you just woke me up," then as an afterthought he added, "did something happen?"

_Priceless. _"Just shut up, get up, and follow me, liar. Now we've gotta move out of here, all because you were trying to catch me off guard with your crappy 'snoring'"-she didn't tell him she'd been taken in at first- "so I hope you're happy."

Peter grinned, as he leapt to his feet. "Well, you can't blame me for trying. To kill you, I mean. Anyway, are we going left or what?"

Michelle dug into the bag and got out the map. She was so incredibly pissed off that she'd have ripped in two, were it not laminated. "You mean west, idiot. No, that's where the danger zone is. We're going to head south-east. It's only about an hour and a half until the next announcement, and I think that they'll make the residential areas danger zones, since loads of people'll be hiding there. I…think we should be near them at the time, so that we'll catch people who are moving out…" she trailed off.

Peter's lip curled, unattractively. "Well, I thought you were goin' to just wait till the end of the two days and then find 'em. Y'know, because you haven't exactly been looking for anyone."

Michelle moistened her lips, as she always did to keep her frustration under control. She turned to Peter and countered with, "What, so you're saying I couldn't kill anyone? Er…can't you remember Andrew and Serena?" She held her gun tightly, as though to remind him.

Peter shrugged. "Yeah, well you _hated _actually doing it. You don't have it in you to kill anyone else, and that's why I'm not even pissing my fucking self, because I'm not scared of you. You think you're so fuckin' solid, don't you. Well, you're not, so shit that."

Michelle blinked, and then started sniggering. "Are you actually serious? Do you really think that I wouldn't finish off a little rat-faced piece of shit like you?" Her voice was increasing in volume, but she neither knew nor cared, "I am going to _murder_ you, Mortimer. That's why I got _you._ Maybe you're right about the rest. Maybe I couldn't just happily kill someone, but you know what? I know that you've committed a ton of crimes, and that you weren't getting off this island alive anyway. So I thought, 'might as well put him to some use'. I couldn't just take anyone hostage, but _you…_I'm doing the _world _a favour, just by making your last days miserable, and I hope there's a fucking award for it, because I know I won't get any other prize when I walk off this goddamn island. Now, keep your fucking trap shut, or I'll shut it for you, understood?!" She was surprised to discover that this rant had really taken the wind out of her. She took a few deep breaths, and turned away, making to cross the bridge.

"You don't know shit," came the furious voice of Peter from behind her. Michelle turned around, and saw, to some disturbance, that saliva was actually trickling down the side of his chin.

"What did you say to me?"

"I said, you don't know the fuck about me, so don't talk like you know me!" he spat, cracking the rope (which had been Michelle's weapon; the Walther P99 had technically been given to him) on the ground. "You don't know how fucking hard my life is."

"You're the one who makes it that way!" Michelle said unsympathetically, "Just be quiet and come with me, or I _will _shoot you right here, right now." She marched over to Peter, and pointed the gun in his face, with little shock-effect. Peter stared her down, hoisted his bag over his shoulder and nodded, though he had tears in his eyes, for Michelle to start moving. She turned around, and walked over in the direction of the bridge. As her shoes made a dull clomping sound on the wood, she heard a slight sob behind her.

"What now?" She turned around, and sighed as she saw that he was rubbing snot from underneath his nose, and was sniffing. "We aren't getting anywhere. I know how you're feeling but-"

"I don't care!" he bawled, "I just want to get off this fucking island right now! I'm sick and tired and you won't even let me rest. _You're _the one who's fucking evil, not me! You give me that _bullshit_ about being scummy…" he whined. "Can't you _please _just give me a chance? I don't have a gun, do I?!" he dropped his bag on the ground, opened it, and then shrugged his shoulders exaggeratedly, showing his defencelessness pathetically. He looked up at her imploringly, "I won't tell anyone that you killed Andrew and Serena, I promise, and if I did, you can just kill me, right?!"

Michelle said nothing. She looked down at him, begging her for his release, and in that instant she knew that he was right. What she was doing to him was cruel. Michelle didn't want to think of herself in that way, even if it was Peter, and she certainly hadn't meant it when she'd said that she'd be happy to see him suffer so much. He was just…annoying, that was all.

It wouldn't hurt her, either, if she did just let him run off. Hadn't she just been thinking about how it might just be a waste of time to have him tag along? He might just try and follow her, though…no, he wouldn't want to risk her seeing and shooting him, would he?

"Alright. Get out of my sight."

Peter looked up at her in shock, "Really?!" Michelle nodded, and he looked absolutely ecstatic. "Oh…" then his face turned blank for a moment, and he started rooting in his bag. "I haven't marked down the danger zones, and I think you've got my sheet," he gestured for her to look in her own bag. Michelle's face darkened in irritation. He smiled sweetly, "I'm gonna need it, aren't I?"

"No, I don't. You have it; why would I have taken it off you? You couldn't even use it to give me a paper cut, because it's laminated."

Peter shrugged, "Well, it's not in here."

"Let me see," Michelle crouched down, carefully placing her sword behind her out of Peter's reach. She wasn't prepared to allow him to fool her again. Using her left hand, Michelle reached forward, about to rummage around in Peter's bag, but before she could, she noticed Peter looking over her shoulder, a scared look on his face.

"What?" Michelle's heart started thumping in her chest. She craned her neck, certain to see someone standing right behind her, pointing a gun. Of course, that meant that she directed her aim away from Peter. It only took her a split second to realise that nobody was actually there at all, and that Peter was merely trying out another bluff, but half a second was all that was needed.

"Too slow!" Peter shrieked, producing the can of mace from the bag, which Michelle, much to her horror, had completely forgotten about. She'd have fired a gun and blown his fucking face in right at that moment, but she just hadn't had the time.

Before she could react, Peter pointed the can in her face and fired, only for a second. The effect hit her instantly. Her eyes and the rest of her face began to burn like hell, and as she instinctively breathed, the chemical in the surrounding air was forced up her nostrils, causing her to feel suffocated. Roaring curses, she fumbled with her fingers, releasing the safety on the gun and fired it in Peter's direction. At this point, she could barely open her eyes due to the excruciating pain, and Peter had knocked her over, so she was in no fit state to fight.

But she'd be damned if she didn't try.

She had missed when she'd fired at Peter before, so if he had just run away, he'd be perfectly safe by now. Hell, if he had just accepted Michelle's gracious excusing of him, then he'd also be free. But that, Michelle supposed, would have been too clever for him. She reached out with the gun again, but Peter's hand wrapped around her wrist, and she felt him trying to force the Walther out of her grasp.

"Like shit, you fucking cunt!"

Michelle felt instead with her left hand for the sword she had put down, but she'd been knocked backwards, and it was slightly out of her reach. Peter couldn't get it, fortunately, since if he let go of Michelle even with one hand, she'd have the strength to pull the gun from him, and this time, she would not miss. So, Michelle used her left hand to start, well, punching him in the face. Sadly, Peter had bent her arm back, and was standing semi-behind her, so she couldn't get any decent aim at his face. Her arm flailed wildly, punching him in the legs.

"Fuck you, bitch!"

"Fuck you, shit! I'll fucking kill you for this!"

The mindless babbling insults continued for a few moments as Michelle continued swinging at Peter, and he kept trying to force the gun, but Michelle's hands clenched around it tightly. Michelle was burning both externally with the horrendous pain, and internally with rage; rage at herself for having flippantly allowed Peter to keep the spray. How the fuck could she have been so stupid? But she wasn't scared anymore. This was turning into a stalemate situation; one in which Peter could do nothing but keep both hands on the gun, and Michelle, similarly, had both hands occupied, so she couldn't force herself up to attack him. However, if it was a question of time, then she'd win. The mace was continuing to cause her immense pain, but now, she could just about open her eyes, only slightly, and her vision was blurred with tears. In a few minutes, the effects would wear off; after all, he'd only used a little bit of the stuff, right?

"Michelle," he grunted, "let go of the fucking gun. I won, for fuck's sake, why don't, you just give up? I even outsmarted you; bet that doesn't feel fucking good, eh?!"

Michelle snarled, "Yeah? You should have just fucking run away when I gave you the chance, bastard. Now you'll never- UGH!"

Michelle had cried out in pain because, before she knew it, Peter had started biting on her right wrist. She vaguely registered that he must have had extremely sharp teeth, but she was much more focused on keeping the gun in her hands.

_FUCK! This is actually REALLY painful now…_

"Get off, fucking stop it!" she wailed, "I-"

All of a sudden, Michelle remembered that she had four limbs, not two. Peter had moved slightly, so that Michelle started grasping at his daypack, causing it to tear. However, she also had her legs, and they were pretty strong legs at that. She kicked at Peter viciously, at his shins, knees, and finally his crotch.

"AAAGH!" Peter collapsed to the ground, and began writhing around, but his teeth clenched on Michelle's arm once again, much to her dismay.

She could feel her fingers starting to go slightly numb, and she was losing her grip, quickly. No…all she had to do was last out for a while longer, that was all. She continued to kick Peter, crying in anger as she did so, but…but…the gun was coming loose. She realised at that moment that there was nothing she could do; it was already too late.

Peter had the Walther once again. He struggled up and back a little way from Michelle, who had tried to grab him without success. Letting out a triumphant laugh, he pointed the gun right in Michelle's face. "Time up, Michelle! You'll think again the next time you try to fuck with me…or not!"

Michelle gazed at Peter dumbly. She couldn't believe it. It was just…inconceivable. It can't be ending this way! Not looking down the barrel of a gun pointed by Peter Mortimer! _No!_

And it didn't. Michelle's game was not quite over. From behind her, to her left she heard a gunshot. In the instant immediately afterwards, she assumed that it was Peter, and that she was going to die at any second. But she didn't. She opened her eyes, and saw, to her shock, that it was Peter who had been shot. His right arm was covered in blood, as he spun around and landed on the ground. Ignoring Michelle, who was standing stock still, clutching the bar of the bridge tightly, looking back and forth for any signs of the assailant, Peter turned and tried to aim his gun again, before a second shot was fired, causing him to duck. He raised his arm slightly, and there came _another _one. The bullet lodged itself in the bar of the bridge, next to Peter's leg.

He looked at Michelle in fury, as though it was somehow her fault, and turned to run away, finally sensing that some skilled sniper was just waiting to pick him off. As he ran he fired in the direction of the trees from where the shots came. He winced in pain as his bullet wound continued to bleed very quickly; Michelle could see the blood dripping down his hand, as he ran off to the west, cursing all the way. It would have been smarter to fire at Michelle, who was out in the open and unarmed but…obviously he was unwilling to risk it.

"This isn't fucking-" Peter was cut short as a fourth shot was fired, and clutching his arm, disappeared in the direction of the farms. "This isn't fucking over!"

Michelle watched him go with a sense of overwhelming relief. Then, of course, she turned around, hoping to catch a glimpse of her saviour, but maybe they'd ran off. However, they hadn't. As though satisfied that Peter had disappeared, Janine Carter (Girl #3) cautiously appeared under the glow of a lantern some distance away. Michelle thought she might be dreaming, or that it was simply a case of mistaken identity. After all, she was still suffering badly from the effects of the mace. But she could see that this girl had brown curly hair in two tightly pulled bunches, and knew that nobody else in the class would ever try to pull of that hairstyle. She laughed in disbelief as Janine started hurrying down the path towards her.

"Michelle!"

"Janine!"

Janine reached Michelle, and the two girls, best friends, embraced each other tightly, with Michelle unknowingly sobbing hard into Janine's sweater.

**16: 27**

Janine had been travelling alone for the most part of the game. After she had shot Lucy Edmonton (Girl #4) dead, she had gone over to the place where she had expected to discover Violet MacDonald also lying dead, after Janine had impulsively shot her, too. Finding no person there, and no blood, Janine could only determine that Violet had been wearing some kind of protective clothing she'd been given as a weapon.

Anyway, this had left Janine alone in the game, and she left the northern half of the island as quickly as she possibly could. Her boyfriend Callum Harrison (Boy #8) had been one of the first to die, as had her friend Kimberley Jones (Girl #7), so her head had been all over the place as she was forced to cope with the knowledge that she had lost them. Her weapon, the Enfield revolver was clearly a very nifty little thing, and it had served her well so far. As she hid in various locations throughout the course of the day, it had crossed her mind to use it on herself. It would have been so easy, just one pull of the trigger, and a nice painless death. She'd be free of goddamned game. But…no…killing yourself was something only a weak person like Lucy would do, and she wasn't like that.

A couple of hours ago, Janine had become aware of the fire burning in the eastern area of the island, as she hid in one of the buildings which made up the little marina of the island, thinking that nobody would go to a zone so close to the hall, which had been a danger zone since the beginning. Janine didn't know that Callum's body lay face down in the water of the boathouse opposite her at the time, and she hadn't heard his request to meet up as he'd left the hall, so she had no way of knowing. It was probably for the best. She'd thought a lot about him, when she'd been by herself. Callum had been a good guy, despite his reputation as a player. Janine had, yes, been a surprise choice for a girlfriend, and most people had been vocal in their disapproval of their relationship. Callum's friends disliked her, seeing her as a slag and a poor one at that. Callum's parents had had much the same judgement, she supposed, but that had had only made the rebellious Janine more intent on making it work between them What had hurt, badly, however was her own mother's quip, _"Don't you think he wouldn't look twice at you if he hadn't been with all the pretty girls already?"_

_Well, screw her_.

Janine eventually had to forget about Callum, and concentrate on herself. She wondered who it was who was lighting the fire? Could it really be the case that someone knew a way out of the game? No, Janine decided, it would be a mistake to run into anyone. Look at what happened with Lucy, for fuck's sake.

However, Janine _had _run into someone, obviously. She thought it would be better to try and scout out a place to hide in the residential area, and to move about at night. So she had left the marina, moved directly south to avoid zone H-03, which was right on the west coast, and had seen nobody. Entering the woods was a necessity, and she'd found a really dense place through which to creep around the heart of the island. Instead of heading diagonally southeast, she'd had to go further south. H-08 went active at five, and she didn't want to risk being caught in it. Unfortunately, she ended up on the edge of the wood, being probably up to 120 metres outside the danger zone, but unwilling to take unnecessary chances. As she crept, revolver in hand, she could have sworn that she heard raised voices nearby. Finding herself wandering though a play park, of all places, she'd gone against her best judgement and gone to check it out.

She'd been right. In a clearing, with a manmade path and bridge over the stream running through it, Janine saw two figures. She was actually within their view, even if it was shrouded in darkness, but neither Michelle Ashanti nor Peter Mortimer immediately noticed her. Janine was horrified to see that Peter seemed to have beaten up Michelle, who was lying on the floor, and was now pointing a gun at her. Janine hadn't thought twice, and started firing at him, hitting him in the shoulder but was unable to finish him off. This wasn't important; Michelle had been saved after Peter had run away. Now, a matter of seconds after this occurrence, Janine was hugging Michelle, whose life she had saved.

"Janine, you saved me!" Michelle wept, "I…I don't know what to say; I'm so glad you're here!"

After checking around to make sure they were safe, Janine smiled, though she knew deep down that this would cause problems for her later. Right now, though, she was simply thrilled to see her friend alive…but she didn't look at all well.

"Michelle…you're bleeding all over, and your face is red…what-?"

"Oh, well, he sprayed that can of chemicals- mace, I think- in my face," Michelle sniffed, "and I got beaten up pretty badly but I'm okay…I think."

Janine noticed that Michelle's wrist was bleeding worst of all. "Fucking hell, Michelle, you didn't….did Peter do this?!" she spat, angrily. "Fucking cunt- I should have killed him."

"It's okay!" Michelle said reassuringly, before closing her eyes in a pained way, "actually…I do feel a bit weird. I think I need some water…"

Janine reached into her bag, and gave one of her bottles to Michelle. "What are you doing?" she asked, as Michelle started pouring the water over her cuts.

"I'm just cleaning the wound." She did so, and then took a long drink from the bottle, actually emptying it. "Oh," she looked at Janine guiltily, "sorry about that, you can have one of my bottles." She gestured towards her own pack, but Janine didn't make any reaction. "Are you okay, Janine?" Michelle asked tentatively.

"Yeah…" Janine continued staring at the ground, "it's just weird seeing you after all this time. I guess I just look sad coz of, well, Callum and the others being dead."

Michelle nodded, "I'm so sorry about that," she said quietly. "So, what've you been doing, did you see anyone?" Michelle started massaging her own shoulder, where she'd hit the ground.

"Oh, yeah…" Janine looked shifty, and continued, "Um, Michelle, I've got something you can use as a bandage," she reached into her daypack and produced a pink silk scarf which Michelle knew did not belong to her. After wrapping the scarf around her hand, she asked, and Janine knew this was coming;

"Janine…where did you get this?" Michelle didn't back away, but she narrowed her eyes and seemed slightly wary. "This isn't yours is it?"

Janine bowed her head, "no, it was Lucy's…I only killed her in self-defence, Michelle, you have to believe me! I thought the scarf would be useful…looks like I was right. I took her weapon too, it was a golf club." Janine saw no point in lying about it; Michelle would have found out anyway. She dreaded to think how many people Violet MacDonald could have told about the incident, which was partly why she had not investigated the fire- some people might shoot her on sight.

Michelle was quiet once again, and looked quite pensive. Janine couldn't tell what she was thinking. If worst came to worst, she had the gun, and Michelle only had what seemed to be a sword, but Janine couldn't imagine Michelle reacting in the same way as Lucy.

"Hey, Janine?"

Janine looked up at Michelle, whose face was kind and understanding. "Yeah?"

"I believe you, that's what friends are for." Michelle drew her arm forward and put it around Janine's shoulder, drawing her in. "I won't ask you for the details, because I know that it must have been really hard for you." Well, this was no surprise, really. Janine knew she could count on Michelle, and happily hugged her back.

"Thanks. So, do you think there's a way off the island?" Janine had been hoping Michelle would say yes, because she'd always been smart, but she shook her head.

"No, I don't. Did you see the fire earlier?" Janine nodded. "Well, I don't think those people actually knew a way out. I don't really know what to do, Janine, and you've just made it so much more complicated."

Janine didn't understand. "What do you mean?"

Michelle sighed, "Look, I'm going to be honest with you. I think that the only way out of this game is to win it," Janine didn't respond, so Michelle went on, "I haven't killed anyone, but-"

"Wait," Janine said sharply, "don't say another word; I know what you're going to say."

Michelle's eyes widened, "Y-you do?"

Janine shrugged, "Yeah, but it doesn't matter. You tried to kill Peter, didn't you? It wasn't self-defence. You know that he's a piece of shit, so you thought you'd kill him and take his gun. I'm right aren't I?" she looked directly into Michelle's face, which didn't betray any reaction.

"Yeah," Michelle replied, "that's it exactly. You understand though, right?"

Janine listened for a moment to the gentle sound of the water cascading beneath her, before speaking. "I guess so. But…aww, shit…" Janine could feel a lump forming in her throat, and felt like she was going to start blubbing. Then, she said, seriously, "I get it, Michelle, you want to win the game, right?"

Michelle closed her eyes, "I don't know," she looked at Janine desperately, "but you know that I would never kill you, Janine. You must know that!"

Janine nodded, "I…know that's how you feel."

"What do you mean?" Michelle asked, "That's a stupid way to put it. I'm not going to kill you. Or anyone else. End of. Besides, you have a gun."

Janine looked at the revolver, "Yeah. I bet it could be _really_ useful," she smiled bitterly.

"Stop it! Why are you acting like this?!" Michelle demanded, "I know you're suffering, Janine, but so am I! I'm sorry Callum's dead, but I didn't kill him, so don't take it out on me!"

Janine spoke quietly, "you're the only one I have left, Michelle. Kimberley and Callum are both gone, so it's only you. I'm not close to anyone else, am I?"

"So?"

"So…Violet thinks I'm a murderer, too…"

"Violet? What does _she_ have to do with it?"

"There's probably no way out of here, and other people will be after me by now. Violet…I shot her by mistake, but she isn't dead; she wore a bulletproof thing. But she knows about Lucy, I think. Anyway, I'm only saying that I'm happy to see that you're okay, Michelle. Back at school, you were a good friend to me when I needed you most. Nothing's gonna take away from that."

Michelle still didn't understand what she was getting at. It was true that Michelle was a good friend to Janine, obviously. She'd always thought so, anyway. It was strange; however, that Janine was saying all this out loud, since she wasn't generally a person who didn't _do_ saccharine displays of affection, just like Michelle. This was why Michelle liked her- they were different from other girls.

"Thanks, I…I appreciate that," said Michelle, "but I know that already, so, again, why are you acting like this? Is it coz you're scared? Of _me_!? Is that why you're being so…weird?" Michelle spoke more firmly now, and grabbed Janine by the shoulders when she looked away, "It is, isn't it? You think that I…" Michelle couldn't even get the words out.

"Michelle…" Janine said slowly, before standing up, "You just said that you were playing to win, so-" she avoided Michelle's gaze, and didn't complete her sentence.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to _kill _anyone! It's not worth it, just to get off the island…and to safety. I'd rather die."

Janine's nostrils flared, as though she had just smelled a figurative rat. "I said all those things to you, Michelle, because I meant it. I never got a chance to see Callum before he died, and I didn't want to waste my time with you! The game screws people up, and I know first hand the fucking things it can do! I told you about Lucy didn't I?"

Michelle leapt to her feet, gripping the sword from the ground without actually intending to. She'd stood up a little too quickly, and felt a bit dizzy for a moment before responding, "Cut the bullshit, Janine." She spat into the ground.

Janine simply replied, "Fine. You want the fucking bottom line, here it is. I'm not going to stay with you, Michelle. I couldn't bear to see what the game'll do to you…you've always been so competitive."

Michelle glowered menacingly. How dare Janine accuse her of…well, the truth, actually. That was beyond the point. "So fuck off, then, Janine! I'm a murderer after all, right? You just run off somewhere and who knows, maybe you'll find a new boyfriend to treat you like shit."

"Callum was a good lad, and now he's fucking dead!" Janine roared, "If you say anything else, I'll-"

Michelle laughed, "You'll do what, Janine? _Kill _me?! Get real, for fuck's sake." However, Michelle dropped her tone when she saw the gun in Janine's hand begin to quiver, and tears appear in her eyes.

"Callum was a better friend to me than you ever were! I wish I'd realised that at school, then maybe I could have been friends with people like…Lucy or Zoe or-"

"Interesting; a girl who evidently couldn't go a few hours without trying to kill someone, and a self-deluded slapper," sneered Michelle, "Both dead, by the way. Just like your precious Callum! It was the best thing that could have happened to you, bumping into me, and you've fucking blown it now."

"Shut up!" Janine shouted, "I'm going, and if you dare follow me, I'll fucking kill you!" She turned on her heel, leaving Michelle standing sweating with rage.

"You were bad news from the start! But you're right about one thing- Callum must have cared about you, or else he-" Michelle broke off, suddenly, "or else he wouldn't have told me, just before we arrived, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you!"

There was silence for a moment, before Janine looked back at Michelle, "what did you say?" she whispered, in an ominous tone.

Michelle shifted uncomfortably, "you heard me. I know that Callum cared about you, or else he wouldn't have said that to me. That's all." She looked at Janine apprehensively, "And he did, didn't he? Till death you did part. Not that you were married or anything, but…I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Janine; I just thought…that if you were going to run off, you should know, that's all."

Janine felt a certain warmth spreading from her heart, at least that's how it felt, anyway. She looked at Michelle, sighed and walked back towards her. She understood now, just by looking at Michelle's face, that what she had said hadn't been easy for her. Michelle was very cold towards Callum at the best of times, and her own opinion had probably been, as she'd said, that Callum was only out to 'use' her. She could imagine Callum and Michelle bitching towards one another, and it would be just like Callum to say something cheesy like that. All of Janine's anger towards Michelle had evaporated.

"Oh, Michelle…"

Michelle was crying now, and had dropped to her knees, "Janine…I can't believe I said all those things, it's only fair that you think I'm a…murderer. How could you know? Fuck, I just don't even know myself, what I'm capable of! I attacked Peter, but I wasn't even thinking. But you're my best friend, Janine! I don't know what I'd do if it was just you and me left, and that's the goddamn truth!"

Janine grabbed Michelle, and hugged her tightly, but kept the gun tightly held. Michelle was right, they both were. It was just the game…both of them had been so badly hurt by it. But now, all they had was each other. The game _couldn't_ take that away from them. Callum had died, still loving her, and she him. Janine couldn't truly have expressed how great that made her feel. She said;

"I know, Michelle. I'm sorry too; I can't believe I thought you would have killed anyone." Then she laughed, "For a second there, I even thought that you were going to say that you knew something about Cal-UH!"

The cold blade of the sword dug into the back of her neck, and that was the end of Janine's long life of suffering. Brought up in squalor to negligent parents, nothing had been expected of her, ever. An unhappy child, who acted out, because she had been blessed with nothing else in life, ridiculed and mocked for having the very idea that someone decent could love her, and eventually forced to cause and also endure the deaths of people she cared about, _by_ people she cared about.

But on the other hand, this girl was one of the luckiest ever to compete in Survivor. She didn't feel betrayed as the blood ran down her back, because she'd already gone by then. Instead, just for a moment, but a very important moment, Janine Carter really had felt like she was the centre of the universe, at least for someone who mattered.

The game had unknowingly provided this feeling, as and she might have said; it was now something that it could never take away from her.

For all her malice, this was something that Michelle Ashanti, now removing the blade from her best friend's neck, would have been very pleased to know.

**16:46: Surviving Contestants: 26**

**Author's note: Well, I'm sorry this took so long to update. I have a feeling that this will be a very polarising chapter. Either very moving, or very cheesy. I hope it's the former.**


	19. Whiteout

**January 16****th**** 17:00**

Brandishing a Colt New Service revolver, Aidan White (Boy #20), peered around the corner of a farmhouse in the southern half of the island, his heart racing. To the south, he could just about make out the sea, a thin blue line over the cliff tops quite a way off, and as he ducked back and looked across the back of the old brick settlement, he couldn't see much else to the east, save for a few other buildings in the distance and part of the road running around the island. Aidan crept as quietly as he could down the west side of the house to get a closer look at the barn at the other end of the field.

_Why there? This house is as good as any…_

Except it wasn't, obviously. Aidan needed somewhere indoors to hide, but he had to be sure that it wasn't already occupied. The large farmhouse may have made a half-decent hideout, but that made it all the more likely that someone would be there, and how could he allow that?

Zoe Wakefield (Girl #19) had shot at him some hours earlier. Contrary to her friends' suggestions, Aidan had indeed been lurking in the bushy area at the foot of the mountain, and he had only just made it out of there alive. The fact that Zoe had attempted to kill him had done nothing for his nerves, but he was astonished that anyone could be going through the same with someone so unstable. Anyway, for now, Aidan was focused on finding shelter for the night, as the forecast for tonight was probably no better than the previous one, judging by the dark clouds in the sky, and Aidan reasoned that he couldn't possibly stay outside without getting pneumonia or whatever. If he'd thought earlier, he would have entered the residential area and maybe found a garden shed, but it didn't really matter now, and he had a strong but not necessarily justified hunch that the built-up areas would become danger zones very shortly. As he looked over, a small butterfly fluttered in his stomach as he noticed a loudspeaker attached to the roof of the barn: this was very good, considering that he'd had no sleep (though, oddly, he hadn't really felt tired) and needed to be awake for the announcements.

_Okay, nobody in sight…just check around…now!_

There were hedges a little to his right, but Aidan didn't bother sneaking along them, and instead sprinted across the field as fast as he could, soaking his feet from the waterlogged ground as he did so. He began panting heavily as he reached the barn; exercise was not something he did on a regular basis, and he found himself sweating heavily all over. Scratching his head irritably, he wished his hair wasn't quite so short. Shaved to an intimidating length, no moisture was taken up by the hair, and his scalp had no warmth from the chill. Actually, this wasn't just annoying- it was infuriating, and Aidan threw his gun to the ground and started clawing at his head until he left a painful scratch.

_Shit, shit…calm down, for fuck's sake…what the hell's wrong with me?!_

Tears of fury emerged in his eyes, but he started taking deep, deep breaths and he remained shaken, but could again think clearly. He picked up his gun from the ground, cursing himself for not being more careful, and focused on the task in hand. The barn was a fairly large building, and was quite out in the open. It could probably have done with a paint job- the wood on the beams was starting to rot- but Aidan couldn't have noticed or cared about that. He was surprised to find that the steel padlock on the door had not been shut. Panicking, he initially assumed that someone was inside, but where would they have found the key to unlock it? It was, Aidan discovered, only "locked" with the intention of keeping animals in, rather than intruders out, so there were several bolts shot shut across the gap of the door. Hesitantly, Aidan pulled them back, but suddenly realised that if they were bolted shut from the _outside_, then nobody could be on the _inside._ He proceeded to speedily unbolt and open the door.

What he found was not surprising. A rank, dirty bog-standard barn with no amenities other than the sink and taps to his left. It seemed empty, but Aidan decided not to take any chances and after closing the door behind him he reached into his bag and got out his torch, deciding it was safe to switch on and moved forwards, his gun cocked. There were about twenty stalls in total, so that was ten along each side of the barn, each one separated from the next by tall, nailed-together planks of wood. Aidan pointed his gun and torch in each one, all being fairly identical- hay, a water trough- until he reached. He felt like some kind of secret agent…until he reached the final pair of stalls, and looked into the one on the right.

"Muuhhh…" Well, that was the sort of noise it made.

"Yaahh!" Aidan screamed in shock, and aimed his gun at the thing, the light from his torch shining in its pitiful eyes. "Oh…" Aidan's heartbeat slowed down, upon registering the creature, and then he felt an unusual, melting feeling in his chest as he continued to gaze at it.

Lying on the hay, its water trough empty, and looking very weak, was a young calf, continuing to look dully up at Aidan with its enormous brown eyes, as though it had been hoping for something else. It was completely white in colour, but was so thin- its legs were like sticks- that had it not brayed, Aidan may have though it was already dead. It mustn't have been fed in days, and had clearly been abandoned here when its owners had left the island to make way for the game. Cattle couldn't just live off hay, could they?

Aidan didn't quite know how to feel, or what to do. This wasn't bad-boy territory, but then again, Aidan wasn't bad, not really. He thought it would be best to just leave it, but found himself unable to do it. After a minute or so, he rushed over to the taps near the door, and turned them on, just to check they were working. Good, cold water was rushing out. In his daypack, Aidan had a few bottles of water left, but he wasn't going to waste them on a _cow._ So, he rushed back to the stall, grabbed to trough, and rushed back to the tap to fill it up. Lumbering back to the calf with it was quite difficult in the dark, and because it was so heavy, he couldn't hold his torch at the same time, so he placed it facing out of the stall at the end so that he wouldn't lose his way and impale himself on a pitchfork, or something else lethal.

"Argh!" Aidan placed the trough right in front of the miserable creature, causing a lot of water to slosh all over the floor. The calf limply began wriggling towards the trough, with a little interest. As it approached, it looked up at Aidan's gaunt, long face as though asking _"is that all you've got?"_, but as it outstretched its long pink tongue and tasted the cool water, it immediately began lapping it up with gusto, though it was forced to pause and take a few breaths.

Aidan knew how it felt. "There you go," he nervously placed his hand on the calf's head and began stroking it, "okay now, you're okay now." Seeing the calf's apparent ease at being touched by a human, Aidan felt a little bitterness inside him.

_A cow is treated better than me. A fucking cow._

But he also felt somewhat comforted. After all, it was said that animals didn't discriminate in the way people did, and Aidan acknowledged that this may be the only living thing on the island which trusted him absolutely. Feeling only slightly ridiculous, and recognizing the bizarreness of the situation, Aidan crept into the stall and knelt by the cow, the pressure finally off his feet. The creature didn't seem to mind, and if anything, nestled happily by him.

"Is that better?" As he was "asking" the calf, he noticed that it was wearing a collar, which was fairly slack as a result of weight loss, but it was also tagged. Aidan picked up the torch and read it aloud. "Daisy?" So it was a girl. If he'd been more of a bovine expert, Aidan may have already been able to tell by taking a glance at her, but, well, drugged-up delinquents weren't generally farmers were they?

Aidan White was a cocaine addict. He had started taking the drug about a year ago, when he'd found a bag of white powder in his brother's room, knowing immediately what it was. His brother, Craig, never openly mentioned the fact that the bag had gone missing, but he had proceeded to tell Aidan that if he did suddenly find it returned, Mam and Dad would never know about any of it. However, Aidan played innocent and instead decided to try some out. He wasn't an idiot- he didn't just start spooning it into his mouth- he only snorted a little bit now and then, so nobody ever noticed. His schoolmates may have guessed, however, as he became even more withdrawn in class, and others became quite frightened of him. That hadn't been Aidan's intention, but it was good that he wasn't the one being picked on.

Craig had never explained what had happened to the dealer he had been holding it for, but instead ended up paying out a lump sum of £1500, partly to protect Aidan, but partly to cover his own backside, too. He'd lost a lot of money- much of which hadn't been his to begin with- but his life continued as normal. Meanwhile, Aidan knew none of this, and just assumed that Craig had been planning to use it himself. Anyway, Aidan regrettably ended up giving some to Peter Mortimer (Boy #15) and Harry Hayes (Boy #9), his friends at school. He told them that he'd bought it himself, and that it wasn't all that bad, since they wouldn't get prosecuted even if caught. Unknown to Aidan, Harry hadn't liked it, and emptied his share down the sink, whereas Peter had sold his to someone else. Therefore, while the three of them continued acting out, Aidan was the only one who was actually risking his health.

_But…but…_

He had to continue taking the cocaine, even if it was only a little. If he didn't, he might develop a sense of guilt, and the others might not want to hang out with him anymore. By nature, Aidan was very quiet and antisocial, so he'd fallen in with Harry and Peter when they were younger and their classmates weren't afraid to exclude and make snide remarks because they were a little…troubled. Aidan had never intended for their activities to reach such criminal levels, but if he'd done something about it, he and Harry might be more accepted in school- if the bullying ceased. Peter Mortimer, however…well, Aidan could see no hope for him.

Now, of course, Aidan saw no real hope for himself either. He'd probably be dead soon, following in the footsteps of all the other students. Nobody was going to help him, except perhaps Harry, who actually knew Aidan well enough to know he wouldn't actually hurt anyone. Peter also knew this, unfortunately.

Aidan started crying and shaking slightly, and only just noticed that Daisy was sniffing his daypack curiously. Of course, she'd be hungry. Early on in the game, Aidan had been forced to break into a little shop in the west of the island, not too far from where he was now, in order to grab as much food as he could, positively craving it. He had eaten until he felt sick; crisps, chocolate, sandwiches, biscuits- but he still had some of the awful bread rolls he'd been supplied with. Wiping away his tears, he unzipped the bag and rummaged through, producing three rolls. Daisy didn't even wait. She grabbed all three with her teeth, clipping Aidan's hand in the process, and wolfed them down, doughy bits hanging down her chin.

Aidan began laughing. She just looked so cute and hilarious at the same time. Aidan had never been around animals, but he felt himself growing a little attached to this one. He didn't know what he'd do when he had to leave her- this area would become a danger zone eventually, if he didn't move. Those bread rolls couldn't possibly sustain her for a long time, and her breathing was still somewhat laboured. For the first time, Aidan wondered why such a young calf was present in the middle of winter; cows were meant to give birth in spring, right?

He heard Daisy's stomach grumbling, and said, "sorry, but I haven't got anymore food. You ate all mine." That was a point; now he'd have to find some more sustenance from somewhere. Well, that would have to wait. He wasn't planning to move until after at least the next announcement, but he didn't feel remotely tired. He slid back into the corner, and began to think about the other contestants. He had heard several gunshots since the last announcement, so several others had to be gone by now. Aidan didn't particularly care, since there were few people in class he was close to. In fact, the more people who died, the greater the chances of him winning were.

_Winning, hmm…_

Aidan had never thought about that. He could still escape the island, if he was prepared to play the game. But he couldn't, could he?

_Pro- I could survive the game. Con- I'd have to kill people. Pro- I'll probably have to defend myself at some point anyway. Con- If I went out there, I'd be risking my life. Pro- What have I got to lose? I'm as good as dead anyway._

He was too stressed out to think about it properly, and so the argument just went round and round, and he kept returning to the same conclusion. All the kids in his class hated him, but they had good reasons to, after all. He would never say he _terrorised _any of them, but there were few people who could honestly say that they thought Aidan was a good person, after everything. The thefts. The vandalism. The drugs. On the other hand, Zoe Wakefield had made an attempt on his life, so maybe he should return the favour. He fingered his gun subconsciously. It was pretty cool, with a long, thin barrel, but a little difficult to handle, perhaps. Of course, he hadn't had to use it yet.

"Moo…"

"Shhh! They'll hear you!"

Daisy started licking Aidan's hands, picking up all the breadcrumbs. She seemed quite agitated, so Aidan started stroking her back calmly to try and calm her down. Maybe she needed milk. Actually, that was probably it; she was very young, Aidan could tell, and probably still needed milk from her mother. Having an idea, Aidan stood up. It was beyond ridiculous that he cared so much, and hoped that nobody would find out, but he decided to enter a warzone in order to return to the shop to get some supplies for Daisy.

_Fuck…am I insane?_

Yes, probably, but nevertheless, he couldn't just stick around here, he was too restless. In reality, he might have just been acting selfishly; if he had been tired, then there was no way that he'd be going out of his way like this. Then there was something else. If he went out there and killed somebody, well…he wasn't doing it just for himself. If it had to be anyone, he hoped it would be Zoe…that bitch…

"Aw, shit! Fuck!"

Aidan got halfway to the barn door and then immediately retreated at the sound of this terrifying voice. He ducked into his hiding place, turned of the torch, and unknowingly clutched onto the calf for support, who looked somewhat confused. Aidan, however, knew exactly what was going on.

_Please…please dear sweet fucking Jesus, just pass by, just walk away…_

Aidan's prayers were not answered. The barn door crashed open with a thud, as Peter Mortimer kicked it open. Aidan couldn't see it, but Peter's arm had been injured quite grievously, and he was still bleeding from the gunshot wound. He immediately noticed the tap and sink, and Aidan could hear the water running.

"Urgh…ah…crap…urgh"

Aidan had didn't know what Peter was doing, and he had no intention of finding out. Keeping absolutely silent, he tried to hear anything what Peter was saying, but anything he did say was just some throwaway curse, so he was definitely alone. No surprises there. Aidan was tempted to just sneak up to the edge of the stall and peer around the corner, but he didn't dare. Besides, Peter hadn't closed the barn door, allowing the light to pour in. That meant that he wasn't planning on being here long, surely? Aidan wanted him to leave _now_, before the announcement, or he'd be heard marking down the danger zones. He could hardly breathe, but Daisy apparently felt differently.

At the moment, the taps were running full blast, and Peter couldn't hear, but the calf was rapidly becoming more agitated and disturbed by the level of noise. Aidan grabbed her tightly, but she just seemed all the more willing to struggle. Maybe she thought that this was another "friend".

Well, Aidan certainly didn't, which spoke volumes about how much "friendship" he actually had with this guy. The thought that Peter meant no harm whatsoever hadn't even crossed his mind. He wondered what kind of weapon he had. If it was anything less than a gun, he'd be able to take him on. If not, then…

Daisy refused to settle down, and Aidan begged for her to stay silent, but she just wouldn't remain calm. She was tied by a rope from her collar to a metal hook on the wall, so she couldn't move far- hence why she had been unable to drink water from another trough. However, she could just about make it out of the stall and into view. Aidan had no choice but to let go of her. If not, she'd have probably started mooing and Peter would have come over and found him anyway. He willed her just to stand still, but she carefully made her way forwards. As she did, Aidan held onto his gun extremely tightly. There was always the chance that Peter would simply ignore her, but if he didn't, he'd have to come forward, be distracted by Daisy, and be shot by Aidan with the element of surprise. Simple, in practice, but unfortunately not to be.

Daisy made it out into the open, between the stalls. She seemed to be regarding Peter with a pleasant, but certainly hungry, curiosity. Peter hadn't noticed her yet, and as he turned the taps off, having cleaned his wound to what he thought was a sufficient degree; he never would have, but…

"Muuhhh?" It almost did have a quizzical quality to it.

BANG BANG.

Two shots were fired by Peter, who had been taken completely by surprise. Apparently it had been a good thing for Aidan to stay hidden after all. Peter yelped out in terror (as Aidan almost did), and then swore loudly, as he saw what he'd done. He stayed for an instant, and then ran out the door, having nothing more to do here.

When he was sure that he'd left, Aidan, who had tears of shock welling up, crawled forwards to get a better look at the fallen Daisy. One of the bullets had completely missed, hitting the back of the cowshed. The second one had well and truly hit its target. Blood was pouring out of Daisy's neck from the bullet wound, and was spreading quickly across the floor, turning her right side, on which she now lay, a deep shade of pink. Her eyes were glassy, and she'd probably had no idea what had just happened.

It was strange that Aidan was so upset, but after a while he had to concede that this was probably the best outcome for him. Peter Mortimer had disappeared, although it was dangerous to still be here, what with shots having been fired. Stroking Daisy one last time, Aidan gathered up his bag and turned to leave, preparing himself to face the game. He no longer had anything but himself to worry about, but still, it wasn't nice to think that he was going to carry on as he started.

Alone.

* * *

**17:32**

Nina Fox (Girl #5) didn't understand why Joshua Johnson (Boy #11) was being so cautious. According to him, this "hideout" was scarcely a kilometre away from where they had teamed up, if that, and yet it was taking them an absolute eternity to reach it.

"Hey, Nina, I wanna stop here."

Josh hadn't seemed nearly as scared as she had been, and yet he was trying to make them stop at every opportunity. So far, they had hidden in every sheltered location he could find, and Nina was getting impatient. However, he had the gun, so she supposed she had no choice to comply, but this was getting ridiculous. It had got dark long ago, and they were travelling around the mountainous area. Nina wasn't exactly physically unfit, but she saw little point in traversing this part of the island if there was no need. No, she wasn't going to put up with it anymore.

"Look," she said sharply, "you said that this house overlooked the sea on the _west _side of the island. We're almost as far north as you can get, so what gives, Josh? There's nothing here."

"Let me just catch my breath, then I'll talk to you." He didn't look well at all, in fairness, and he had spent two hours walking fairly steep inclines, but how was that her fault? She'd given him plenty of time to rest.

_Stupid piece of shit…the sooner I get there, the happier I'll be._

How the fuck did they all put up with him? He was such a fucking nuisance, it was unreal. Nina almost wondered whether he'd been telling lies about Stacey and the others just to get her to tag along with him. But no, if he'd wanted to do anything, he'd have done it by now. She looked over at him, sitting down. He wasn't exactly fat, but he could do with losing a few pounds, certainly. Nina sat alongside him, and stared out at the sea. It was actually a fairly marvellous view, the moonlight dancing on the waves and in the distance a strip of land could be seen through the trees. She found herself slightly lost in the beauty of it all, similar to how she felt looking in a mirror. No, this was much more perfect, come to think of it.

"Why did we come all this way?" Nina asked. She hadn't really spoken much to Josh since she'd joined him, as he probably had a lot on his mind. Kirandeep Khan (Boy #12) was dead, having tried to kill Josh, and they'd been such good friends. Josh might not trust her yet, either. Perhaps she should just give him a break. When he didn't respond to her question, however…

"Don't just ignore me!"

Josh angrily turned to her, and replied, "Shut up! I don't have to fucking talk to you if I don't want to. I came up here because I wanted some peace and quiet." He spoke as though he didn't care that their lives were in danger, and it angered Nina. If he wanted to die, then fine, but couldn't he have taken her to Stacey (Phillips, Girl #12) first? She didn't really want to spend her time with Josh, especially not if there wasn't going to be that much of it left.

"Will you listen to yourself?! You can have your piece and quiet when you're dead, or off the island. Right now, your team needs you!" This was such a ridiculous, cheesy statement that she felt embarrassed. "Well…uh…your friends need us, I mean. Anyway, how do you know that it's safe here?"

"I don't." Josh ground his teeth in rage. It turned out that taking pity on Nina had been a serious mistake. "But I don't know that any of the others are safe either, so-"

"So you thought you'd just take me for a ride?" Nina interrupted, "are we going back to them or aren't we? I'm sick of this!" She stared into Josh's face, but dropped her gaze when he stared back. She buried her face in her hands and took deep breaths to calm down. "I'm sick of this fucking game!" she shouted, "I just want to go home!"

"Yeah? Well, you have no chance unless you do as I say!"

"But I don't understand why you aren't desperate to get back and make some kind of plan- a successful one." She was of course referring to the counterproductive fire-starting plot, which had indirectly led to Kiran's death. "For all you know, they could have already come up with one."

"For all you know, they could be dead!" Josh pouted childishly.

A sudden thought hit Nina, and she felt the anger drain out of her. "What if they've already come up with something?" she asked Josh seriously, in an alarmed tone.

"Didn't you already say that?" Josh sneered. "No, they won't have come up with anything; they were waiting for us- me and Kiran- to get back."

"So?!" Nina was exasperated, "Do you think they all stopped thinking just because you were gone? Kiran isn't coming back to them- what's telling them that you won't either?" She panted heavily, "What if…they're already getting off the island, right at this moment?"

Josh looked at her, wide-eyed, "you're saying that they'd have left without me? They wouldn't do that." However, he sounded a little uncertain.

"Oh, really? Remember that you're planning to leave everyone else- who isn't dead- on the island, and saving yourself. What if…they were attacked and had to put their 'plan' into action? It doesn't matter who escapes, as long as you do! At least…that's how I see it."

Josh didn't know what to make of that idea, but Nina had a point. He and Kiran had left them hours ago, and not returned. If he, Josh, had been waiting at 'HQ' and also figured out a genuine escape method, then he wouldn't have left his friends until completely necessary…right? Like…in an emergency when they were attacked- as Nina had just mentioned. Or…

"Wait a minute!" Nina stood up so quickly, she might have been shocked by electricity. "You know how the announcements are put out every six hours?"

"Yeah…" Josh had a funny feeling that he knew where she was going with this, and more worryingly, she was probably right.

"Well…" Nina swallowed nervously, "they'll say that Kiran's dead, won't they? And then the people at the house won't know what happened…they'll think you killed him!"

"I did!"

"You know what I mean...they'll think you murdered him and are playing the game. How would they know what to believe? Bet they wouldn't have thought that Kiran could ever try to kill you, would they?"

Josh shook his head. "Kiran didn't try to kill me! He was just scared! He didn't know what he was doing! I had to finish him off! And they'd never say that I would have killed him, either." _I hope not, anyway…_

Nina ignored him, as a new fact had come to light. She closed her eyes and shouted, "Fuck! How could we- I- have been such a goddamn idiot?! The announcement! What if the area where this house is becomes a danger zone, what then?! They'll have no choice except to move and we won't find them, and…." She was quiet for a moment, "I might not see Stacey again."

Josh looked at her curiously. Tears had started rolling down her cheeks, and she had covered her face to hide them from Josh. She had a reputation for being the biggest bitch in class, and it was true that since meeting her, she had done nothing but whine and complain, and think of herself. On the other hand, he was no less selfish himself, so he couldn't really blame her for that. But…he had lost Kirandeep, and it had hurt him incredibly badly, far more than he had expected. He couldn't help but slightly blame Nina for his death, even though she had only been protecting him. She also seemed to genuinely care a lot about Stacey, despite being fairly indifferent to anyone else.

"What?"

"Huh?" Josh had been giving her the curious expression for several seconds now, and only just noticed. Then he shook his head and stood up. "You're right, Nina. We need to get there ASAP." He checked his map and watch, before beckoning Nina to follow his lead. "There aren't many danger zones round here, so we should be okay till six at least. But you'll have to run quickly."

"I can do that," Nina smiled in excitement, "see? You know I'm right, don't you?"

Josh shrugged. "You know, we're quite alike, I think." He waited for her reaction, and all he got was a raised eyebrow as they started to sprint south, though keeping to the footpath along the way. "All I mean is that we're both kinda…"

"Selfish, bossy, arrogant?" Nina laughed ironically, but she didn't care that this was clearly what Josh thought of her. Inwardly, even now, she felt triumphant. It would be a cold day in hell when Nina Fox didn't get her own way.

* * *

**17:39**

_Honestly, sometimes I'm so damn useless…_

Jasmine Sanderson (Girl #14) had run across Nina and Josh quite by chance. Well, that wasn't strictly the case, given her tracking device, but she hadn't retreated when she saw them approach, as she had done with just about every other dot which she had come into close contact with on the island. Instead, she had hidden in the trees nearby, intending to reveal herself to them and tell them to watch out for Nicole Nicholson (Girl #10), but she hadn't had the guts. Besides, she owed them nothing, did she? Nina in particular was a horrible person, constantly making the other girls feel inferior just by dropping near-constant subtle remarks. Anything to exploit insecurities that she just didn't have herself. Even then, she'd been making Josh feel bad about himself, although Jasmine had been far more interested in something else that seemed to be going on…

Apparently, Kirandeep Khan was dead, and Joshua had killed him in self-defence. She'd heard it all, but couldn't believe it. She'd always thought that Kiran was such a nice guy. Was it possible that Josh was lying to Nina...?

Jasmine was once again so grateful for having received the tracking device. She wasn't in the state of constant fear and paranoia that others were, though she had to be careful not to be too reliant on it. That was why she had come to the mountain in the first place, because it contained hardly any danger zones. For a lot of the time, she'd been moving from building to building every time anyone else got close, which may have been a mistake, given that she couldn't sleep, and was quickly running out of energy. Now, she had a new strategy to remedy this.

If what Josh said was true, then that group of people had to be the dots that appeared in that large house that she had passed. It wasn't as though she was particularly friendly with a lot of people in her own class- she preferred the kids on her estate, most of which weren't in her class, thankfully- but she wasn't disliked, as people found her shy and perhaps naïve nature quite endearing. She wasn't cool enough for the main popular group in her class, nor did she share any interests with the more nerdy girls, such as Lauren Lucas (Girl #8). No, she was happy with her own clique outside the form, with kids a year or two younger than her, as sad as that was. She was just immature; it wasn't a crime, was it?

She couldn't run as quickly as Nina and Josh, but she had the advantage of not having to put any effort into locating that manor house. She wished that she'd got there sooner, since one thing was for sure, she couldn't survive the game continuing in the way she currently was. But would the people at the house trust her, and did they really have a plan? Well, they'd have to be perfectly willing to believe Nina and Josh, as far as Kiran was concerned. Unless they were planning to lie about it.

_In that case, then, I guess I'll just have to get there first. A warm bed is all I need, and then I'll be safe with other people._

Pretty naïve indeed.

* * *

**17:41: Surviving Contestants: 26**


	20. Negligence

**January 16****th**** 17:54**

Dr. William Brown felt as though he were onto a winner, which in truth didn't happen too often. Well, it wasn't as though he was trying to take advantage of a woman with what seemed to be slight amnesia, but he had got a slight feeling that 'Danielle Oliver' might be slightly attracted to him. After he had agreed to take her back to her rented house in Fort William, William had just about managed to persuade her to return with him to his house for a meal first.

_I hope this doesn't count as taking advantage._

He was a little worried about that, but he certainly bore Danielle no ill intentions, so that was okay, right? Actually it would have to be, since she had nowhere else to go at the moment. In truth, he was simply intrigued by this woman, who had appeared from nowhere. Fort William wasn't exactly a large city, but Danielle still couldn't remember her address, and was reluctant to call the police until her memory had returned, so that she could be sure that all the facts were straight. After preparing her a meal of cottage pie and chips, which she had wolfed down ravenously, before consuming several other pieces of food in the house, he and she talked about their lives. Nothing too in-depth, obviously, but small-talk. It turned out that she was- _yes!_- single, and worked as a travel agent, which she admitted was partly why she often travelled alone, because it was beneficial to her job. William didn't buy too much of this; instead, he guessed that she was simply quite lonely. He did most of the talking to make her feel at ease. He'd talked about his family, his job, the way he'd graduated from Edinburgh with a first class honours, among other things. After accidentally directly telling her directly that he wasn't gay- twice- he got the feeling that he was boring her slightly, and so shut up.

Anyway, she'd gone upstairs for a shower- she'd needed one badly- and William had resolved to wait for her to finish and then they'd get ready to return to the scene of the supposed crime. His house wasn't much- pretty typical of a single man living alone, really. He hoped that she wouldn't be too put off by the fact that he hadn't cleaned around at all for almost a week, but then again, not many thirty-year-olds owned their own home, especially not in such a nice locale, overlooking Loch Linnhe.

_Oh, what the fuck am I thinking? I don't even know her, and she doesn't live around here! _

William usually went out on a Saturday night with some friend he'd gone to school with, but he'd have to make some excuse if any of them called. It looked like he'd fake some illness, given that he was single, lived alone, and had no kids. Sometimes, he wished that he still lived with his parents, then he wouldn't have any responsibilities at all, but come on- someone on his wage couldn't just live at home? How sad.

Waiting for Danielle felt a little like waiting for a girl to get ready for a night out, and so, feeling awkward even in his own home, William reached for the remote to switch on the T.V., but…damn, it was all the way on the other side of the room. Instead, he flicked on the old portable radio which stood on the coffee table positioned next to the armchair in which he was sitting. Not that there'd be anything good on at this- ooh, wait, it was coming up to six o'clock.

Normally, William would never have bothered listening to this kind of broadcast at all, let alone be excited it was on, but recently, rumours had been flying around, which had all been rather unpleasant. Apparently, the isle of Kilbride- roughly thirty miles away- was to be hosting this season of _Survivor_, a government programme which had begun many years ago as a means of keeping the nation's youth under control. It was very rarely talked about, as though it might jinx you if you did, so not everyone had heard of it, but the government didn't make it a secret by any means. Students fought to the death, and that was pretty much the premise. Details of the school and location were never officially made public, but when a whole class of students went missing in your vicinity, it was very hard not to figure it out, or, for that matter, when large groups of people were suddenly evacuated from their homes.

So, given that the sea surrounding the island had very recently become a no-go area for boats, this had to be what was going on. Of course, the surprisingly large numbers of uniformed personnel spotted in the area of late were a dead giveaway.

William hardly listened to the broadcasts for entertainment, but it was a matter of local interest, and who knew? Maybe something unpredictable could happen. In a way, it was good to listen to the list of those who had died, even if he didn't know them, because it served as a good reminder that in this country, lives could easily be snuffed out.

_Well, isn't that precisely what the government wants?_

Tuning into a rarely-listened to station, William's thoughts continued to focus on Danielle, as there were still a couple of minutes of boring economy-related news items before the announcement would be made. Danielle was a lovely woman, he concluded, but there was something enigmatic about her character. She'd been very open with him through the afternoon, but occasionally she'd stare off into space, her mind on other things. This wasn't surprising, but still…in a way, he'd be very sorry to say goodbye to her, but on the other hand, she didn't quite seem right. No matter. Once she recognised the spot where she'd been attacked, the authorities would set her up with a hired car and she'd be on her way home.

* * *

Of course, William Brown was completely oblivious to what was really going on. Maxine McKenzie had told him a pack of lies, and yet he'd believed her completely. As she began to comb her hair, she was once again struck by how easily she had misled him, and reminded herself never to take her femininity for granted again. All those lies…it had just come so naturally. Not that it had been that easy to hear him drone on about his life while smiling and nodding, thinking about her hers was all but over, but a small part of her admired the way she had been able to continue tricking him for this long.

_Dear God, what the hell? The guy saved my life and I'm happy to be manipulating him?_

No, she wasn't happy per se, but she wasn't a bleeding heart by any means. It struck her again how lucky she had been to have been found by someone who lived on there own, and moreover- she looked at the scar on her forehead in the chipped mirror above the sink- someone who had been able to perform surgery.

Maxine had got over the initial shock of her class being taken from her to compete in the game of _Survivor _after spending the last quarter of an hour sobbing in the shower about it. She absolutely had to concentrate on herself for the time being, but her situation seemed to be quickly becoming hopeless. She couldn't rely on William Brown forever, after all. He seemed like a decent guy- no, he_ was _a decent guy, and she wasn't remotely afraid or suspicious of him, but there was no way she could trust him with the truth. She had no right to, anyway. Nonetheless…she could probably stay here for a few days, if needs must. The house was a typical three-bedroom semi, and sure, it was pretty filthy (by female standards, anyway), with almost nothing tidied away properly, but Maxine had stayed in worse places in her life. Anyway, her main aim now was staying out of prison or worse, her grave, so she'd have settled for Premier Inn if she had to.

_Premier Inn…heh, that's a good one._

Fuck, what the hell was she thinking? Her class were fighting for their lives and probably about to die at any time- maybe even right at this moment. It only just occurred to her that their parents would be aware of the situation by now, and she began to wonder how each of them would react. She'd not met many of them (it wasn't deemed necessary for schools to have parent's evenings), but it hardly made a difference, did it? Besides, she'd heard enough about them through general chit-chat in the classroom. She could imagine some of the parents being more distraught than others, though. Like…Lucy's family compared to, say Peter's. Tyson's mother was a real pain in the neck…_dear God, your son's not_ that _amazing, love. _And then Maxine's thoughts turned to another student, the one who had inspired her choice of pseudonym. Daniel Oliver was her favourite; the teacher's pet. He was such a sweet kid: kind, committed and always optimistic, he was a teenager who wasn't a teenager, in a way. She remembered a time he'd shown up to school on a teacher training day and apologised to her in front of a room full of people, red with embarrassment.

_Yeah…if any of them survive…I hope it's him._

She'd suddenly had just about enough of reminiscing. She hurriedly got dressed, opened the bathroom door and stepped onto the landing. She needed to come up with a plan quickly. However, her eyes were distracted by something on the bed in one of the upstairs rooms. The door to the room was ajar, and craning her head in, she could distinctly make out a suitcase and its contents sprawled across it. This was surely one of the great pleasures of living alone- that you often had plenty of space to store some crap you could never be bothered to sort out. Apparently, William had just been on holiday to somewhere in Europe (Maxine was surprised- it cost a lot of money to travel abroad, and you had to get a permit. Relations between the UK and the E.U. weren't particularly good these days), given the fact that several notes of Euros were poking out from the clothes.

Well, it was all certainly irrelevant to her. What she did know was that, if she were to escape or whatever, she'd need some money... not that she'd live on holiday leftovers, but it was a start. Darting into the room on her tiptoes, Maxine quickly swiped the notes from under a heap of T-shirts, feeling absolutely rotten. She counted seventy, and stuffed them into her pocket, before rethinking and placing them strategically in her bra.

_No…if I do this, and he finds out…he'll report me to the police straight away. Then I'll be screwed. But what if I go down there and he asks me to leave…?_

In the end, she decided to leave them, at least for now. What good would it do anyway? Better to keep any potential allies on side, rather than steal from them. It was partly integrity, but she had to keep thinking a few steps ahead. There was a chance that he could go upstairs and find the money missing before she parted company with him. Hoping that he hadn't heard her moving around his room, Maxine crept back onto the landing and headed down the stairs, preparing to face William. She'd got a good measure of his character by now, and she guessed that if she was just polite enough, he'd help her however she wanted.

"_OK, it's six o'clock and…time for the…an-nounce-ment!" _A cheery voice pronounced every syllable of the last word. The voice was coming from the front room; it was probably just a show on T.V. Maxine pushed the door open to find William sitting back in an armchair, listening to a radio show of some kind. Maxine smiled broadly at him.

"Hi," she said, "is it really six already? I-" William pressed a finger to his lips after waving at her soundlessly. Apparently this was important stuff coming through. Maxine felt a little surprised, and smiled confusedly at the serious expression on William's face. She took a seat as the woman's voice continued.

"_Well, I may be sitting here with a screwdriver in hand- that wasn't orange juice was it, Stacey? - but I can't help but feel just a little disappointed." _From where Maxine sat, she sounded a little giddy, and what she heard next was a kind of static interference, and a few raised voices. It wasn't until a few seconds later that the reality of what this broadcast was clicked in her mind.

"_I'll do it. Get out of my way, Estella, you stupid-"_ This was a man speaking, and judging by the tone, he sounded quite a bit older than the woman who'd just been on, as well as a lot more professional. He cleared his throat, before continuing. _"Yes, eighteen hours have passed- how time does fly- and that leaves thirty to go, with only twenty-six of you left."_

In that instant, Maxine's heart seemed to stop beating entirely before speeding up, threatening to burst out of her chest. She knew what this was, but part of her refused to believe it. It couldn't be true…this man couldn't have been…

"Awful, isn't it?" William shook his head sadly, but Maxine wasn't listening.

"_Okay, here are the five most recent unlucky competitors- _

_No…_Maxine thought desperately, _it might not be them…_

"_We have two boys: five and twelve, Christopher Day and Kirandeep Khan. The girls were: three, eighteen and nineteen, Janine Carter, Rachel Underwood and Zoe Wakefield. As for the danger zones…"_

Maxine's knees had given way, and she collapsed to the floor, taking deep breaths as William rushed to her aid.

"Danielle! Are you okay? Come on, sit down, you're alright." He grabbed her shoulders but she refused to move. It was…all true. Everything she had feared, they were dead…they'd been taken. Christopher and Kirandeep and Janine and Rachel and Zoe…her students were dead. That man…he'd said there were twenty-six left. Did that mean that sixteen of them were gone already? Had they really started _killing _each other? She felt the tears come thick and fast, and was unable to control them as she put buried her hands in her face.

"Danielle! What's wrong? I don't understand…" William quickly leapt up and turned the radio off. He knew that what they had just heard was unpleasant, but it was no worse than reading about murders in the newspapers, was it? He felt like such an idiot…how could he not have realised that this might have upset her?

"Danielle?" He asked tentatively, bending down to comfort her, "what's-?"

"That's not my name, for fuck's sake." Maxine regained some strength and she knelt up so that she could face him. He raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"I'm sorry?"

"My name's Maxine," she wept, "and I need your help."

* * *

**18:03**

Having reached the house so quickly, Jasmine Sanderson (Girl #14) had had time to think as she rested in the bushes which grew on the outer wall of the private garden. She'd had to stop, obviously, to prepare for the announcement. The danger zones weren't near her- they were K-08, L-08 and J-10 at seven, nine and eleven o'clock-although she was had to be very careful in this area, since E-08 was just a little northeast of here. Hearing that five people had died didn't give her much comfort, obviously (actually, had E-08 not been a danger zone, she'd probably have stumbled across Christopher Day (Boy #5)'s body on her way here), and she was slightly dismayed that Nicole Nicholson (Girl #10) was not among them. Now that the announcement was over, and she'd marked down the danger zones, she tried to forget about everything else and concentrate on what she was going to do. In fact she was pretty hungry, so she got out a bottle of water and a bread roll and began to eat.

She couldn't actually see the house from this angle, but she had already got a good look at it on her way here, and she knew that with the tracking device, she'd be able to tell if people were coming. The trouble was, that she'd become a little nervous. Although she'd only been separated from her classmates for less than a full day, it felt like much longer, and she didn't know exactly who was holed up in the house. On the radar, there were five people.

_Hmm…I wonder who they could be…probably Michael, Carl and…who else? The other guys who were with Josh are dead, and now Zoe and Rachel are gone too…_

Whoever they were, Jasmine felt as though she could be safe with them, at least for now. After all, wouldn't anyone playing the game be alone? Regardless, Jasmine knew that she had no choice, since she had no means of winning this game herself. Not that she wanted to.

Jasmine suddenly realised that she needed to get in there now, or else Nina Fox (Girl #5) and Joshua Johnson (Boy #11) would arrive before her and possibly turn the rest of them against her. That would be so like them. As she tried to stand up, she became fully aware of just how tired she was, and she just wanted to slump back down into the bushes and fall asleep. But no, she had to press on. Anyway, she needed to use a bathroom (she'd broken into another house in the south last time- this tracking device really was the most useful thing she'd ever owned), and even more importantly, she needed rest.

Getting up and taking a few steps back, she could see the house over the wall in all its detail. The easiest way to enter was probably by knocking on the front door and stepping back a bit so they could see her through an upstairs window. It wasn't like they would just answer the door to anyone. Hurriedly packing her things away, she suddenly felt rather apprehensive- what if they didn't want her? What if they turned her away and left her all alone in the knowledge that they didn't need her? For some reason, the thought of this happening was even worse than the idea of dying, and Jasmine found herself crying quite heavily, the tears running down her cheeks.

_No…I'm being a fucking idiot. I haven't even seen them yet! I…I'm just tired, that's all it is…_

Wiping her eyes, she forced herself to make a move, but she didn't want them to see that she'd been crying…wait a minute, yes she did. Then they'd have to take pity on her. She moved carefully along the side of the wall, knowing that the gate was on the other side. She spotted a garage with a Range Rover parked outside, which was easily the only remotely posh thing she'd come across on this godforsaken-

"_Jasmine!"_

The voice came out of nowhere, and Jasmine froze in her tracks, terrified. The voice had been male, but low and hissing, an undercurrent of laughter and amusement in its tone. It had not come from the house, but from quite a way behind her. Rather than just running, Jasmine remained stock still- was it possible that she was hearing things?

Whipping around, all she could see was the dense overgrowth, full of shadows made by the moon- nobody was in sight…until…until…

Peter Mortimer (Boy #15) emerged from the shadows, a gun pointing right at her.

_How…how had this happened? _Jasmine was too scared to really think too deeply, and she didn't understand. _I've got my radar-thing! I…how did I miss him?! _She backed up to the wall, trembling.

She'd put the tracking device away, and hadn't looked at it since before eating her bread rolls. Apparently she'd spent more time crying than she'd thought.

* * *

**18:13**

"Don't even think about shouting- or I'll kill you." Peter started to walk up to her at a fast pace, the wound on his upper arm still burning, but he'd luckily been able to clean it and had ripped out the lining of his coat to use as a makeshift bandage, which had stopped the bleeding, but cut off the circulation in his right arm, making it go a bit numb. So, he was using his left arm as his firing hand instead.

Jasmine was standing in the glow of a hanging lamp, the idiot. Peter had been able to see her so easily, but what was interesting him at the moment as he approached was that she didn't seem to have a weapon as she cowered in fear.

"Hey, move into the dark, would you? I don't want anyone seeing us." Jasmine seemed to blink in surprise a few times, but looked right and left before moving into a shady patch of trees.

"Wh-what do you want?" Jasmine asked shakily.

Peter sneered, his mouth breaking out into a grin. "Well, I wanna see your weapon, duh! Where is it?" He had moved within a few feet of her now, and the two of them stood beneath the trees, unlikely to be seen by anyone from the manor house. Peter raised his eyebrows, as though expecting some kind of response.

"Oh…!" Jasmine's shaking hands felt for the zip of her daypack, found it, and retrieved the tracking device. To Peter, it just looked like some kind of metal brick, and Jasmine did not hand it over.

"_Well?!"_ Peter snapped exasperatedly, "what's that?" Whatever it was, it didn't look much use. Then again, if she'd had a gun, she'd hardly have packed it in her bag for safekeeping, would she?

Jasmine was evidently trying to compose herself; not the easiest task with a Walther P99 pointed at your face. Peter could practically tell just by looking at her face that she was thinking she might live, since he hadn't killed her already.

_Well…you _do_ get to live, at least for now…_

"Um…it's a tracking device," Jasmine eventually explained, "You can see where everyone else is…except the people who're dead." She still seemed incredibly reluctant to let it out of her vice-like grip, so Peter snatched it off her to get a look at the front. Sure enough, these dots must be the people…so the people in the centre had to be him and Jasmine. However…

_Who are all these other people near us? I don't see anyone…_

"Hey, Jasmine," Peter took his eyes off the screen and faced her. If these dots are people, then does that mean that there are people in that house over there?" He pointed towards the whitewashed building, which stood in total darkness.

Jasmine nodded, "Um, yeah. There're other people coming-" she suddenly broke off, and put a hand to her mouth, before lowering it, possibly trying to pass it off as nothing. She was too late, unfortunately.

"What was that? Other people where?"

"I don't know…I think I just saw something on the tracker a while ago. It's nothing, nothing at all. I don't even know why I said it." She laughed nervously, but beads of sweat formed on her forehead. "You're the first person I've spoken to since the game began."

Peter raised an eyebrow suspiciously, but didn't press the issue. "Okay…so if you had this, why haven't you seen anyone? And how come you didn't hide when you saw my dot on the screen?"

Jasmine bit her lip. "Uh, well, I was going to ask to join whoever's in there," she pointed at the house, "because I'm not getting anywhere by myself, but I thought I could survive longer on my own. Now, though…" Tears sprang into her eyes again, and she sank to the ground helplessly, "I didn't see you coming, because I put the tracker away by mistake and now…" she looked up at Peter with her pale blue eyes, "you won't kill me will you?!" She seemed to be running short of breath, "I mean…you could have just killed me straight away, right? But you didn't, so-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Peter commanded, before saying slowly, "No…I won't kill you yet, but that's because I'm running out of bullets…fucking cow…oh, not you." Jasmine had given him a very odd luck, but her face now beamed with happiness and relief. She put a hand to her heart, "Oh, thank you, Peter!" She stood up and held out her hand expectantly. Peter gawped at her incredulously, before smirking.

"Oh, shit…you didn't actually expect this back, did you?" Peter asked as Jasmine's face grew pale and helpless once again. "The whole reason I came over was to get your weapon and now that I've done that…"

"But I need it!" Jasmine blurted out. "I don't have anything else…" She gazed imploringly at Peter once again, to no effect.

"Well, y'know what? I need it too, so you just get the fuck out of here, before I change my mind and kill you." He brandished his gun threateningly between Jasmine's brows, placing the tracker behind his back, accidentally straining his wound in the process, causing him to wince.

Jasmine narrowed her eyebrows at the noise, and could see that Peter's sleeve appeared to have been stuffed with something. "What-?"

"I got shot," Peter spat.

"By who?"

Peter didn't see why she should care, and it was none of her business anyway. But then, he didn't know either; he hadn't had a chance to get a good look at the attacker…dirty bastard. Then he thought of Michelle Ashanti (Girl #1) once again, and his face flushed, an inferno of hatred boiling in his mind. He'd hoped that she'd have died by six o'clock- but there was no such luck. Then again, he was pretty grateful that he was no longer under her control.

"I don't know who it was," Peter replied, "but it's all Michelle's fault. If you see her, then I want you to kill her. That bitch…"

Jasmine looked very surprised, a startled expression appearing on her tear-stained face. "M-Michelle? Why? I don't-"

Peter clenched his teeth; he was tiring of this girl now. "Just get out of here! Or I'll fucking do it!" He gestured at the gun, and although he was unaware of it, the smell of dried blood lingered on his tongue, and for a second, Jasmine had blanched so much that Peter felt sure she was going to faint.

Jasmine didn't need telling a further time. She picked up her backpack, scrambled through the bushes and hightailed it out of the area, running between the trees in the opposite direction to the house. As she ran, Peter could hear her woeful sobs for a few seconds. He checked the area around him, and there didn't seem to be anyone nearby. Then he laughed out loud. He'd forgotten about the tracker already? Well, there was no need to take too much care anymore, or so it looked. It was a real pity that his gun only held a couple of bullets, but that was enough. All he'd have to do was sneak up behind someone with a gun, finish them off, and grab their weapon. As for Jasmine Sanderson…well, she'd probably be killed pretty easily now. He hoped that she did get the chance to kill Michelle first, though, however unlikely that was. Whatever happened, he didn't want to have to face either of those girls again, but for entirely different reasons.

_Hmm…_ Peter regarded the house thoughtfully, _five people all together? One of them's going to have a gun, and I'm gonna get it._

But…he'd need some kind of plan first. No matter, he had the tracker now, so he could safely wait. Those guys would probably be forced out of there soon, anyway. Peter settled himself down in the grass, content with the tracker by his side.

* * *

**18:18**

In the northern part of the island, where the land was steep and rocky, and a large part of the woodland had been cleared away to make room for sheep farming, a boy was following- it had actually become_ chasing_- a distressed girl across one of the fields, until she had run into a thicket which lay ahead of a dirt track, running into the mountain. It was fair to say that this girl did not want any company at the moment, as she disappeared into the darkness, but the boy persevered nonetheless.

It was probably also fair to say that Steven Wilkinson (Boy #21) was one of the most well-liked people in his class. He was the class joker and prankster, but he wasn't particularly academic or attractive, so he was easily able to be self-depreciating, without the whole thing seeming transparent. He could do things like try to flirt with Ms. McKenzie, which would have been cringeworthy had anyone else done it for laughs. Of course, now she was dead, and the best friend and locating-target of Sebastian Hall (Boy #7) could end up the same way.

_Why the fuck am I running after this crazy bint, then?!_

"Hey, Violet…" he called up to the black-clad, small girl he was chasing, almost invisible in this quite part of the Isle, "why don't you…tell me what's the matter? I'm not going to hurt you…" Violet MacDonald (Girl #9) had started running the minute she had seen him on the north side of the mountain, a few minutes after the announcement. She had been caught unawares, huddled in the bushes, crying, by Steve. He tried to reason with her but to no avail, she instantly got up and tried to get away, but he didn't understand why. Surely she didn't _want_ to be alone in this? Sure, her weapon was pretty shit- she had a poker of some kind- but his own "weapon", pair of binoculars, was no better. He'd heard about her friend Belle Orbison (Girl #11) being killed, so maybe she'd been pushed over the edge…? That seemed the likely explanation.

Steve didn't see why he should be risking his life just to talk to Violet. It wasn't like she talked much anyway, and besides, he had better things to do. Although Sebastian wasn't sure of it, and Anne-Marie Hunt (Girl #6) had originally dispelled the idea, Steve Wilkinson was looking for Sebastian, along with Mia Selwyn (Girl #15). These two people were who Steve valued more than anyone else on the island, and even though he was going out with Nicole Nicholson (Girl #10), he didn't much like the idea of bumping into her at all. Steve had been planning on dumping her for weeks now, but hadn't had the guts and so hoped to give her the brush-off by spending time with his friends, rather than her, but she hadn't seemed to get the hint.

Anyway, now he had more important things to think about. Sixteen of his classmates had been killed ever since the game began, and he was, in truth, absolutely terrified. He had hidden out in a hut on the mountain at the beginning of the game, and he'd hidden alone, since none of his good friends had left the hall at roundabout the same time as him. Over the next eighteen hours, although he didn't meet anybody- unbelievably- he'd heard several gunshots, and had also had the misfortune to encounter the body of Jonathan Cray (Boy #3) in the early hours of the morning, after he'd left the shack. It made him feel sick, nauseous even, to think that someone had actually gone out of their way to slice his throat…

_Jonathan…dear God, it had to be you, didn't it…_

Jonathan wasn't exactly the 'lucky' type. He'd been a nervous, if slightly annoying guy who was just desperate to be liked, and so followed more popular people like Steve around quite a lot. Nonetheless, he was a kind person who had grown on Steve, so finding him dead was upsetting to say the least.

_And if she's not careful, Violet could end up the same way._

With his back to the open sea in the north, Steve felt very exposed, and as the gradient grew steeper, he eventually decided to stop chasing after her. He could see her dark figure now, scrabbling through the trees- where was she going? Moreover, why the hell did he care? However…it made sense to have at least one more try.

"Hey Violet," he called out again, thinking of something important, "have you seen anyone? I wanna know!" The voice that came out his mouth was almost unrecognisable. Steve had a slightly low-pitched voice, but the serious and impatient tone was one he very scarcely used, being so laid-back. At that moment, Violet turned back, and Steve could see the distress on her little face as she let herself fall to a sitting position. She seemed to be struggling to speak, but eventually she got the words out.

"Yeah…" her voice was quiet, so Steve climbed up the slope, expecting her to shy away, but she didn't. "I've seen quite a lot of people, but most of them are _dead_." She put great stress on the last word, as though it was taboo. Steve waited for her to elaborate, but her shoulders started shaking uncontrollably.

Steve quickly interjected, "Who, Violet?" It didn't matter that he was being insensitive; he had to know. "Who've you seen? How about Mia or Sebastian?" he asked hopefully.

Violet looked down at Steve tearfully, but then seemed to shudder and turned on her heel once again, much to Steve's anger. "Hey! Don't you fucking dare! Wait!"

* * *

**18:21**

Violet continued running, cursing herself for giving Steve all the more reason to pursue her. She leapt off the path, darting in and out the trees, but making such a noise that at this rate it would be impossible to lose Steve. Immediately after she'd been sent away by Anne-Marie (Hunt, Girl #6), Violet had retreated into the forest and moved covertly around the foot of the mountain, so distraught that she hadn't even noticed Steven Wilkinson approach her. Her initial response had, of course, been to simply run away, but after seeing someone so in need, she had been on the brink of telling him everything that had occurred between herself and Sebastian, but decided that that would not be wise.

_What? Is it normal to hold someone at gunpoint?!_

Of course it wasn't; anyone who found out what she'd done would kill her. What was especially scary was that she had no idea why she had done it. If she confessed that Belle's body had freaked her out, then maybe Steve would be sympathetic. Or he might think she was crazier than he already did. At the time, though, she really had suspected Anne-Marie; after all, wouldn't it have been easy for her to trick Sebastian in some way? She still didn't know how they had got hold of that other gun, or the poker she was carrying. Then she remembered what Anne-Marie had said, and it sent a cold chill down her spine.

"_If you weren't wearing the jacket-thing, I'd have shot you anyway."_

Then, arguably worse, regarding the gun, _"I just didn't want you to…do something stupid with it."_ Was that how people saw her? As a helpless, pathetic emo who couldn't handle anything that life dished out? Well, that wasn't true. At least…that's what she'd thought.

Violet was now more determined than ever to escape from Steven, who would not give up the chase now that she had information he needed. The trouble was, she was exhausted; she'd had no sleep whatsoever since she started the game. Once again, tears sprung to her eyes as she thought of how much better her situation would have been if she'd just been a little more trusting. Now that she'd had time to replay the scene on the mountain she'd witnessed much earlier, Janine (Carter, Girl #3) may well have had good reason to shoot Lucy (Edmonton, Girl #4), but Janine was dead now, so she supposed it didn't matter.

_Unless…no, Anne-Marie was sceptical of the whole Janine thing, so she wouldn't have shot her…and she wouldn't have let Sebastian either…_

"Violet! VIOLET!

_Shit._

Steve was alright, but even if she told him the truth, or hell, lied about it, she might end up forced to tag along with him and she just knew that that would be a mistake; he wouldn't stop until he managed to find Sebastian. Unless one of them died first- Steve, probably, given that Sebastian and Anne-Marie had those guns. Actually, Violet had a niggling feeling that Anne-Marie could win the entire game if she tried. This made her think about her own fate; would she end up like Belle or Lucy? After all, she was almost definitely going to die, wasn't she? That made her remember that Lucy's body was around here somewhere, and she was hit with a powerful sense of déjà vu. She didn't want to get any closer to a body than she had to, actually.

As she continued to climb, she could see nothing but trees surrounding her, so she debated on hiding, but Steve was too close. This was becoming unbearable. She wasn't afraid of Steve; there was little he could do to harm her while she had the poker and the Kevlar vest underneath her jacket, but she was afraid of…what, really?

Suddenly, Violet realised something. While she wandered around alone, it was true that she had no chance of escape, as she had thought, but…what if there was another way? She remembered the fire from a while ago- what had become of that? She probably wouldn't know anymore- it seemed to have burned itself out- but the point was that she needed someone. She just couldn't go on like this…she'd die of exhaustion, if nothing else. Steve could help her with that, right?

"VIOLET! STOP RIGHT NOW OR YOU'LL-!" Steve's voice was so loud and overcome with terror that Violet's instincts kicked in, but not quite quick enough. Her thoughts had been so concentrated on her current situation, that she'd completely forgotten about anything else. Even as she was deciding whether to accept Steve's offer of help, she had continued running, and had just run over a sloping peak, and was now moving downhill, not realising how fast she was going.

After Steve's words came out, her mind froze. Her insides froze. But her feet froze far too quickly, and the sudden pause caused her to lose her balance, and she fell. The ground around here was still fairly slippery from the rain earlier, and she tumbled on the ground.

_No…NO!!!!!! IT CAN'T BE!!_

Violet continued to skid, and she hit a tree branch on the ground. For a moment, she felt relieved, thinking that she'd stop rolling, but she her body twisted around as she hit it, causing her to fall backwards in an arc, until she faced the sky. Her arms flailing in the air, she pushed one of them back behind her, but it wasn't quite bent enough, and so her elbow cracked, very painfully, as she hurtled downwards. She screamed in pain (in fact, she'd been screaming all this time, but not realised), as the sensation burned within her arm. At this angle she could just about see Steve's aghast face appearing at the top of the slope, and their eyes met for the briefest of seconds as Violet scrabbled to grab something, but the slope was too steep and slippery. Then, at that moment both of them knew what was inevitable, and what would happen before it did.

Violet couldn't imagine why. That dim thought registered, and she felt a slight feeling of confusion. The island was so large, come to think of it. _How do I know that this is where the boundary is? _

Maybe it was simply fate.

"STEVE!"

"VIOLET! STOP YOURSELF!"

But she couldn't. She felt herself slowing down, but by the time she stopped completely, she'd entered zone D-09. A danger zone.

Violet felt a vibration in her neck, which was probably a result of some mechanism in the collar. Then, as her body hit a tree trunk, the bomb detonated, and the collar exploded, though it wasn't particularly loud. The force of the bomb almost took her entire head with it, but only the front of her neck, throat, and chin were blown completely away, leaving an outburst of blood cascading down her body. Her head fell forwards, no longer able to be supported by the neck. She barely felt a thing.

Steven Wilkinson witnessed the entire thing. He couldn't quite comprehend what had happened yet, as he only blinked, and his initial thought was: _Some people…they can never catch a fucking break…can they, Jonathan?_

* * *

**18:27: Surviving Contestants: 25**

**Day 01 January 16****th**** Third Announcement 18:00**

**Christopher Day (Boy #5)**

**Height: **185cm

**Weight: **156lb

**Designated Weapon: **Ruger SP-101

**Time of Departure: **January 16th 01:00

**Time of Death: **January 16th 12:32

**Duration:** 11H 32M

**Prior Conclusions: **Subject has, in the past, displayed notable deviance and expressed a rebellious attitude (ref: surveillance/Class10M St. Mary's/Day), despite clean performance and easy acceptance in school. Subject is physically at an advantage, although aforementioned behaviour may prove significant.

**Ending Report: **Thesubject proved to have been effectively converted to the game mentality after realising the reality of the situation. Not an entry for the record books, but subject also proved misguided by incorrect beliefs regarding class' entry into the game, which proved his downfall.

* * *

**Zoe Wakefield (Girl #19)**

**Height: **155cm

**Weight: **98lb

**Designated Weapon: **Mossberg 500

**Time of Departure: **January 16th 00:34

**Time of Death: **January 16th 14:02

**Duration: **13H 28M

**Prior Conclusions: **Subject appears to be generally thought lowly of within her class (ref: surveillance/Class10M St. Mary's/Wakefield); allegedly promiscuous though this is not in any real evidence. Nonetheless, she has a confident nature, and is not intimidated easily, which may be reflected in her apparent popularity among others. Unlikely to play the game alone, as subject also shows lack of necessary independence and/or logic (ref: performance records).

**Ending Report: **It may seem that subject's decision to break up her "group" was a mistake, given that her choice of accomplice was poor in comparison to the alternative (ref: Girls #18 and 17/ Underwood and Thompson). As such, she fell victim to optimistic hopes/ delusions of escape. Also, subject may have benefitted from total cut-off from team, having been distrusted shortly before her death.

* * *

**Rachel Underwood (Girl #18)**

**Height: **170cm

**Weight: **129 lbs

**Designated Weapon: **Hatchet

**Time of Departure: **January 16th 00:30

**Time of Death: **January 16th 14:06

**Duration: **13H 36M

**Prior Conclusions: **Shy, emotional and surprisingly frail, subject's lack of confidence may be due in part to unstable domestic situation (ref: family records/ Underwood). Subject is at a physical advantage, at least over other female competitors, but such things do not always come into play regarding personality and player's designated weapon. Possible long survival, as part of a group, but eventual elimination a sad certainty.

**Ending Report: **Uncharacteristic loyalty switch by subject, showing determination and possibly perseverance. Subject also demonstrated strength and ultimately morbid acceptance of her fate. Poetic undertones were particularly pleasant. It will be interesting to see how her death affects the girl she left behind.

* * *

**Kirandeep Khan (Boy #12)**

**Height: **169cm

**Weight: **126lbs

**Designated Weapon: **Candlestick

**Time of Departure: **January 16th 00:04

**Time of Death: **January 16th 15:40

**Duration: **15H 36M

**Prior Conclusions: **Subject evokes conflicting feelings regarding state professionals. On the one hand, he rejects his family's foreign influence which is a blight on our nation, but manner in so doing is not quite so admirable. Has been known to steal and consume alcohol illegally, but is far from alone in this, when compared to white peer group (ref: records/ Khan). Subject part of large clique, but given an oddly obedient personality towards several classmates, subject's performance is not predictable.

**Ending Report: **Subject behaved as expected for a majority of the game, showing characteristic allegiance to Joshua Johnson (Boy #11). More interestingly, subject did not hesitate to kill supposedly close friend/clique member, and also almost betrayed his fellows before his own death. An unfortunately early elimination, as more could have been expected.

* * *

**Janine Carter (Girl #3)**

**Height: **157cm

**Weight: **134lbs

**Designated Weapon: **Enfield No.2 Mk I Revolver

**Time of Departure: **January 16th 00:54

**Time of Death: **January 16th 16:46

**Duration: **15H 52M

**Prior Conclusions: **One of this game's more interesting competitors. Although subject was originally considered a bad influence on other classmates, and behaved in a manner not befitting someone of her age (ref: surveillance/Class 10M St. Mary's/ Carter), subject recently seems to have defied this perception, and engaging in a normal, acceptable relationship (ref: Boy #8/ Harrison). However, a lack of trusting friends seems to be in effect, meaning that combined with her inadequate upbringing (ref: family records/ Carter), could result in a willing participant.

**Ending Report: **Subject's inner strength and practicality could have accounted for something in this game, however she also showed a lot of kindness and bravery, which unfortunately for her, did not pay off. This is particularly unfortunate, considering subject's apparently stellar proficiency and use of handguns. Her ability to kill in the face of adversity (ref: Girl #4/ Edmonton/ death) would also have proved useful.


	21. Unsafe Haven

**January 16****th**** 18:27**

"So, what the hell do we do now?" Michael Hill (Boy #10) leaned against the desk in the study of the old manor house, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor as he contemplated what his group's next course of action should be. Gathered with him were the four other students currently residing in the house with him, all of whom had recently learned of the demise of Kirandeep Khan (Boy #12).

"I don't know," Carl Mitchell (Boy #14) dabbed his eyes with his sleeve, "but I don't believe that Josh killed him, Mike. You can't tell me that-"

"Well, isn't it just a little odd?" Michael replied scathingly. "I mean, they went off together, didn't they? And now Kiran's _dead_." His furious eyes bypassed Elizabeth (Pullman, Girl #13) and Harry (Hayes, Boy #9), the latter of whom was now up and hobbling about, and turned to flicker between Carl and Stacey Phillips (Girl #12). "And all the time, the two of _you_ just couldn't keep your sick urges to yourselves could you?" He practically spat on the floor in disgust and turned away.

Carl, a small but not unattractive boy with mousy brown hair that fell down to his shoulders, opened his mouth to speak, but Stacey beat him to it.

"Fuck you, Hill," she snarled, baring her teeth. With frizzy auburn hair tied up on her head and wild, almost black eyes, she looked remarkably like some kind of feral lioness, albeit one with a mane, and Carl was reminded of how frightening she could be. He began to regret his actions all the more profoundly as Stacey launched into a tirade against Michael. "Who gives a shit, really? Is it that big of a fucking deal? It's just sex for the love of God- although I must admit; it's good to know that I did it before I died, right Carl?" She tossed her head and faced him, as though daring him to disagree.

Carl nodded, "uh…yeah, I guess." In truth, he felt ashamed. While his friends and classmates were dying, and Elizabeth, Harry and Michael anxiously awaiting news, he and Stacey had…

It wasn't romantic or glamorous, like it was in T.V. programmes. At the time, a few hours ago, he and Stacey had somehow ended up downstairs alone together. Not one to be coy, Stacey had straight-up asked him if he wanted to die a virgin, said that she didn't, and so…that was that. He'd have been gay or stupid to have said no, wouldn't he?

_But…better to feel both of those things, than how I do now….or better than to be dead, like Luciano…_

Luciano Estevez was Carl's best friend. Luciano hadn't been anything special, come to think of it. He was quiet and calm, and liked football as a hobby. He wasn't clever or charismatic, and he never had the killer instinct which was so vital when it came to popularity in school…or in a more literal sense, in this game. Some would say that he was quite dull, because he never got himself involved in anything; there was nothing special about him. His nationality was probably the only thing that set him apart in the game. But he wasn't _just _Luciano, he was a good friend; always there, always reliable. He was only fifteen years old and now he was dead.

_And I wasn't there…_

Carl felt a pang of guilt; he should have been out there looking for him, and he might have done, but Luciano had been killed by the second announcement. In a way this made things a lot less complicated, so Carl could at least be grateful for that.

"Are you listening to me?" Carl's thoughts were interrupted by Stacey, who frowned at him and said, "I repeat- do we need to move on?"

"From what?"

Stacey sighed, "Never mind. Just leave it."

Ignoring this, Michael said scathingly, "I need to figure out a plan." He slumped down in a chair and drummed his fingers on the desk, as though he were sitting some sort of exam. Carl, on the other hand, couldn't concentrate on forming any kind of plan of action, his thoughts instead with Kirandeep's death. All five of them remained absolutely silent, until Carl suddenly broke the silence.

"We should leave this place," he said decisively, "it's not safe. What if…what if Josh comes back?" Carl had known Joshua Johnson for a long time now, and he knew what he was like- nothing was ever his fault. He wasn't mature, and he'd never seen anything wrong with excluding or even bullying other students, so Carl knew that he'd probably come back and say that he'd killed Kiran- but that he'd been provoked.

"He wouldn't dare come back. He knows that he's outnumbered, and besides, he's too stupid to think of any decent lies as to what happened to Kiran." Michael obviously didn't have an accurate measure of Josh, as Carl was about to point out, but Michael continued, "Anyway, how is leaving this house going to solve anything? We have nowhere else to go, but if you and your, er, _girlfriend_ want to leave then that's fine by me. Any other ideas?" he asked facetiously.

Carl saw red. "Why do you have to be such an arsehole? This guilt-trip is really pissing me off now, Mike! All I did was offer a suggestion, but no, you wouldn't have it, would you? You're so uptight, like, all the time!" This was the truth, and everyone in the room knew it, but Carl wasn't finished yet. "And, by the way, who exactly put you in charge? You think you're going to find a way out of this? Well, just because Josh is…gone, doesn't mean you can take over-"

"Whoa! Hey, I'm going to have to stop you right there." Michael, who'd stood staring in shock at this outburst, had soon regained his superior demeanour, "Did you just imply that Josh was 'in charge' of us?" he laughed nastily, "Because if you did, well, you're just as much of a sheep as Kirandeep was. Probably died grovelling," he added, before promptly shutting up.

Carl wasn't the most laid-back of people, not when it came to statements like this. Rising from his seat, he pushed Stacey's arm away as she tried to restrain him, and she fell to the floor, seething. She didn't bother to try and stop him as he raced towards Michael with his fists clenched. "Hey, how can you fucking- hey!"

Michael had been holding the crossbow the whole time, and now held it pointing at Carl's chest, stopping him in his tracks. Carl fell completely silent, as Elizabeth and Stacey stood up, the former shrieking, "Shtop it! Pleashe!" Tears had sprung into Elizabeth's eyes, and she clasped both hands to her mouth, making a series of deep breathing noises. Stacey shuddered and clenched her teeth, but no words escaped her lips as her pupils darted around the room, as though looking for some kind of solution. Harry, who had zoned out of the conversation long ago, seemed to have returned to his senses, and now sat in the corner of the room, his eyes fixated on the crossbow that had, in a way, saved his life.

Michael dropped the weapon on the floor almost immediately, and aside from feeling a slight relief- though part of him knew that he was never in any real danger- Carl noticed the fear in Michael's eyes as they made contact with his own. But then he shook his head and snapped, "Don't be stupid; of course I'm not going to kill you. What do you think I am?"

"Hey!" Stacey called shrilly from across the room, and marched over to where the two boys were standing. She glowered at Carl, hands on hips, and asked, "Well? Are you going to stand for that?" She was slightly taller than he was, and he shrank back as she looked him straight in the eye.

After sinking into a chair, he replied, "This isn't getting us anywhere. We need to stop fighting, for fuck's sake, and do something." However, after sighing heavily, he addressed Michael once again, and darkly threatened, "so don't you _ever_ think of saying things like what you just did again, because, I swear, I'll….well, just don't do it, okay? Kiran was our friend and"-

"_Friend?"_

Harry Hayes had said it, speaking in a low incredulous whisper. This was his first contribution to the conversation, and it startled Carl. His speech interrupted, he looked at the injured, ailing boy in the darkened corner of the room, bristling at his nerve. Michael insulting Kirandeep was one thing, but Harry was only here because of Kiran's intervention, and now he was-

_This scummy bastard, _he thought, _if Kiran had left him to die, then he might still be alive._

"What do you mean by that?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably, as four pairs of eyes bore into him, "Well….I'm just saying that if you were all really friends, then you wouldn't care about who was 'in charge' or saying bad things about each other all the time."

"Who the shit asked you?" Carl spat, "Do I need to remind you that-"

"That you're letting me tag along with you? Yeah, I heard that the first ten fucking times," he answered sarcastically, "I wasn't talking about Kiran saving me anyway, just saying that nobody's thinking of any plan, because you're too busy bitching about each other!"

"Well, you don't have to stay here!" Carl seemed to be presently unaware that his voice was reaching a dangerous pitch, "you can piss off and see what your chances are of being rescued- again- but by someone else. While we're on the subject of friendship, actually, no-one seems to be missing _you_ enough to be looking for you now do they, Harry? So, I suppose this is the closest you've got."

"Yeah," Stacey joined in, having made Harry her newest target, "you're damn lucky. After the things you've done-"

"Thatsh rich," sneered Elizabeth, "funny you of all people should shay that."

There was a sharp intake of breath throughout the room. Carl momentarily wondered whether he should prompt Elizabeth to drop down to her knees and beg for mercy, but how was he supposed to communicate that to her?

In all the years that he had known her, Carl had also known that nobody, but _nobody, _made snide remarks about Stacey Phillips and got away with it. Come to think of it, had he declined her earlier proposition, she'd probably have taken it as an insult and flown into a murderous rage. He didn't know what it was about her that made her so scary; it was hard to pinpoint. In her days at school, Stacey hung around with Nina Fox (Girl #5) and the two of them were notorious for picking on the other girls- Violet MacDonald (Girl #9), Francesca Simons (Girl #16) and Elizabeth, to name but a few. Given that there were so many victims, and there seemed to be no particular criteria of victim suitability, not many people were bothered by Stacey and Nina anymore, because they were a small minority. But Elizabeth had made a fair point- Stacey had no right whatsoever to accuse Harry of being considered harmful.

_Bet loads of people would have it in for her..._

Stacey looked as though she'd just been physically slapped in the face. She addressed Elizabeth with a growling undertone to her voice, "What did you just say to me?"

"You heard me."

"That's more than you did, you little-!"

"That's what she's talking about!" Michael said exasperatedly. "You apologise to her right now, and admit that she's right. Go on!"

Surprised at Michael's sudden selflessness, Carl nodded in agreement, "He's right Stacey. I mean…you can be a bit of a bitch, can't you?" He gave her a half-smile, as though to say that he was being serious, but wouldn't hold it against her.

Unsurprisingly, this did not placate her. Stacey stood rooted to the spot, her fists clenched and her eyes closed. For a while she didn't say anything, but took a series of deep breaths, no doubt outraged and humiliated at being victimised as she was. Then she folded her arms and said in a petulant manner, "Fine, I am _so _sorry for speaking the goddamned truth."

"Er…Stacey…"

"Carl, if you think that I'm going to apologise to _anyone,_ you're wrong. Just because I gave it up to you downstairs doesn't mean you can control me, okay? I admit that I'm not the nicest person in the world, fine. But you know, I could die at any time now, and I'm not spending my last moments saying sorry, no way." She looked over at Harry in deep disgust, "especially not to _you."_

"You're shtill a hypocrite," shrugged Elizabeth, "sho whatever," then she added more softly, "But you should be at leasht nicsher in your lasht daysh."

Stacey looked perfectly calm. She didn't say another word before walking over to the door, and slamming it shut behind her as she left the room. For a moment, Carl was extremely worried, but then remembered that all the weapons were in this room, so she wasn't a danger to them. Then he was struck by another thought.

"D'you think she's gone to leave?" Harry asked hopefully, taking the words right out of Carl's mouth.

"I'll go after her," announced Elizabeth, "in caishe she doesh try to leave." She stood up and hurried over to the door with a bizarre sense of urgency which Michael picked up on.

"Why bother?" he asked with scorn, "we're better off- oh, who cares?" he sighed, as he watched Elizabeth leave, ignoring him. "I'm just wasting my breath, as usual," he mumbled to himself.

"Hey…um…about what you said before," Harry spoke up, "you…don't really want me to leave do you? I can't survive out there with this wound. I know that I've stolen your stuff and put custard in your P.E. bag but-"

"That was _you_?"

"Erm…well…uh…Peter made me…kind of. Anyway-"

"Just go to bed, would you? Don't try and win me over like that because it's not working."

Harry seemed to sense that Carl's tone had softened somewhat, so no doubt realised that he was in the clear, at least for now. "Okay," he nodded vigorously, and quietly made his way out the room and down the corridor, leaving Michael and Carl alone.

Michael made a deep cough and, as if the confrontation had never taken place, asked Carl, "So, what the _hell_ do we do now?"

* * *

**18:31**

Elizabeth found Stacey in the downstairs living room, lying face down on a couch which faced an inactive T.V. Elizabeth couldn't hear her, but it was fairly obvious judging by the way her body was shaking that she was crying. Elizabeth felt a certain sense of satisfaction, which, she considered, was fair enough.

_Bitch…the only things she ever said to me were horrible, and she doesn't even care, so why should I feel sorry for her?_

Still, she had followed her down here for a reason, and she wasn't leaving her until she got some answers. Stacey had implied that her pride would have been hurt had she apologised for all her negative behaviour. As far as Elizabeth was concerned, this just wasn't good enough. She remembered the way Stacey had made fun of her, not that she was the only one, for her deafness.

"_Hey! Lizzie Pullman's the one who's deaf. You can say what you want- literally behind her back- and she won't even know!"_

Or, and this was common among people who weren't trying to be offensive, too: _"ELIZABETH! ARE YOU OKAY? CAN YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" _which was generally accompanied with a wide-eyes patronizing look, as though she were an idiot.

"Hey, Shtacey?"

Stacey turned to face her, her face red and blotchy. It turned out that she wasn't a pretty crier. Some more feminine girls- like the more attractive Nina who she hung about with- could turn crying into an art form, but Stacey was clearly not one of them. Her face was all scrunched up and she looked much older than her fifteen years. Elizabeth suddenly felt quite sorry for her. "What do you want?"

"Well…I've jusht been thinking. Ish there any way I could get you to...admit you were wrong and shtart over? I didn't want you to go, to be honesht." This last part felt like a bit of a lie, but it wasn't. What would have been lying would have been to say 'I'm glad you're with us', but that was by-the-by.

Stacey regarded her suspiciously, before saying, "Yeah, right. None of you want me here; I'm not stupid. I don't even know how I ended up here." Nonetheless, she shifted to one side, making room on the sofa for Elizabeth, who sat down. "Can't say I blame you, really."

Elizabeth felt as though she should disagree, but hell, this wasn't a time to be tactful. Instead she asked, "D'you think we'll get off thish island? Even though I know loadsh of the classh ish dead, it doeshent feel real."

"I don't know," Stacey replied, gesturing to her collar, "I'm not exactly used to this. And there's a storm outside- you might not have, you know, heard- so it feels like I'm on the verge of death, actually. It feels bloody real." She buried her head in her hands again, before snapping, "There's no way out, Liz. You need to accept that."

"Never thought of finishing anyone off?"

Stacey was visibly shocked, "What? Of course not!"

"You've got a good weapon," Elizabeth pointed out. It was certainly better than her own; what the hell was she supposed to do with a roll of chicken wire? "If you wanted to, you could have played this game and won by now."

"It's only a stun gun!" Stacey spat, "I think it only has one shot…or something. Anyway, do you really think that I'm some kind of killer?"

"No," Elizabeth admitted, "but you jusht proved that, right? I mean, nobodysh being protective of their weaponsh. You've left yoursh upshtairs, and Chrishes gun'sh lying around shomewhere. You could have taken that."

Stacey said nothing immediately, but she looked stunned, and for a moment Elizabeth thought she may have unintentionally been giving Stacey ideas. But then Stacey said in a low whisper, "I might have killed you…if I'd been in your shoes." She looked confused, "How do you do it? I _bullied _you in the past. Your friends were just killed- and I picked on some of them, too. So why aren't you mad at me?"

"I am," Elizabeth responded, "That'sh why I'm here. I wanted you to acknowledgsh that you're a bully and I'm a better pershon than you. And now you have. Sho it'll do. It wazsh kinda nyshe to shee you shquirm."

Stacey simply sat with her mouth open, clearly unable to find any words to respond to that. Her expression was a mixture of fury and shock. Finally she swung round in her seat and hissed, "Oh, go and screw yourself!" She hunched herself up and turned her back on Elizabeth, who got up to leave.

"Shtacey?"

"_What?"_

"It might be okay, y'know," she paused, "we might all shurvive. And…even if we don't…we did our besht." Satisfied that she wasn't going to run away or do anything stupid, Elizabeth left her in peace.

* * *

**18:31**

Returning to his room just after Elizabeth had left to see to Stacey, Harry intended to slump down on his bed and take a long rest. At least if he was in a separate room, then the others would have a chance to cool off and maybe even come up with a plan, hopefully. Imagination had never been a strong point of Harry's, so he reckoned that it was best to leave all that to the rest of them. He wasn't in a massive amount of pain anymore- or maybe he was just getting used to it- but it would still be good to have a nice lie down…

…if there wasn't already someone sitting on his bed.

Opening the door to find Peter Mortimer (Boy #15) perched on the end of the bed, pointing a gun at him was not exactly what Harry had expected. He opened his mouth to scream, before Peter silenced him by making a jabbing motion with the gun, and putting a finger to his lips.

_Wha- what the fuck-?_

"Harry!" Peter exclaimed in a whisper, "It's you!" Far from the terror that had struck Harry's heart, Peter looked absolutely delighted to see his old cohort. He signalled for Harry to close the door, which he did immediately. Although it was raining heavily outside, Peter was actually fairly dry, which lead Harry to believe that he'd been here for quite some time.

"What the hell are _you _doing here?" Harry asked anxiously, "How the fuck did you get in anyway- and put the gun down!"

"Oh, right," Peter casually tossed the gun behind him. "Well the window was open wasn't it? Did you do that?" Peter shook his head and tutted mock in mock annoyance, "Bet you thought you were all safe didn't you? Lucky I wasn't someone more dangerous!"

Harry slumped down and put a hand to his temple. He couldn't believe he had done that- letting his guard down for the sake of some fresh air. "But it's still on the second floor," he frowned, "so how did you-?"

"Climbed up the ivy," Peter opened his hands to reveal that his palms were red raw, and stained a dirty green colour, "Like that time we broke into school after dark, remember?" Peter giggled, but Harry was in no laughing mood.

"Will you be quiet? Do you know what they'll do if they find out you're here?" Then he was struck by another thought, "Why _are _you here anyway? You can't have known we were here, so why did you come?" Harry's heart had continued beating after the initial shock of seeing Peter here, but it had now started to pound so fast with anxiety that he felt as though it would burst out of his chest.

Peter looked a little disappointed, "Well, Harry, you don't exactly seem fucking pleased to see me. People are _dying _out there you know. You should be glad I'm okay. When I saw you come in here I was so happy it was you- it could have been anyone." He huffily folded his arms before adding, "What's wrong with you, anyway? You're all bandaged up."

"I got shot, actually."

Peter's eyes lit up with excitement. "Oooh, by who? Did you get them back?" Peter sounded as though he were talking about giving someone a black eye, rather than making an attempt on their life. "Where's your weapon?"

Harry decided to start from the beginning, and explained everything. "Well, I ran into Chris, and he started shooting at me. The stupid bastard was saying that I was responsible for…all this. Anyway, Kiran and Josh sorta came onto the scene and saved me when they killed Chris."

"No way!" Peter gasped, "They killed him? To save _you? _That was fucking big of them! Are they here now?" Peter's voice suddenly undertook a sense of earnest which had not been there before.

"No- don't interrupt me," Harry found himself rather enjoying telling his story, "I'll get to that in a minute- anyway Kiran's dead, remember? Anyway, they brought me back here and the others bandaged me up and well, that's about it, really. Josh went off with Kiran but hasn't come back yet. We think Josh killed Kiran." He said it in a low whisper, as though he were giving away a trade secret.

"So, who's here, then?"

Harry hesitated, but there was no real harm in telling him, he supposed. "Carl, Michael, Elizabeth and Stacey."

Peter raised an eyebrow, "Funny bunch of people. But…why are you all here? Just for safety? Got any good stuff?"

Harry shrugged, "Yeah I guess. They're all thinking of a way off the island. I don't think I can help them with that," he laughed, "I mean, you know how thick I am."

"We're both stupid," Peter said bluntly, "that's why we're criminals. But you're cleverer than me though. Clever enough to know that there's no way out of this fucking game, at least." He sighed, "I never wanted to die this way."

Harry was disturbed, then a little angry. "Hey, we aren't criminals," he paused to consider, "well we are technically, but we've never hurt anyone. And more importantly, why d'you say there's no way out? You don't know that. I'm scared, and I want to go home and I'll help out anyone to make that happen!"

"Well, you're lucky. At least you have a home to go to. My dad probably doesn't even know this whole thing's going on." He quickly changed the subject, however, by asking for the third time, "Where's your weapon?"

Harry was defiant, "I'm not telling you until you tell me why you came in here. You're lying if you say you didn't know we were here, so you must have been spying on the house, haven't you? But were you too afraid to come to the door in case we didn't let you in?"

Peter sneered, "They let you in, didn't they? You're no different from me." While Peter was thinking up an answer to that, Peter unzipped his coat and produced what looked like a metal block, "This is how I knew you lot were here. It shows up everyone's position on the island. Happy now?" He tossed the tracking device over to Harry, who looked at it in wonderment.

"This is…this is fucking amazing! If we have that, then there's no danger! All you've got to do is avoid everyone and you'll be safe." He turned back to Peter, "Look, Peter, I'm sorry about what I said. I'll just go and tell them you're here and that'll be okay."

_He's right; really…it's not fair to kick him out when he's done nothing really wrong. They all let me in…_

But at the same time, could Peter really be trusted? That posed another question…how did he have two weapons? The question struck Harry like a lightning bolt. He narrowed his eyebrows and asked him outright.

Peter blinked, and looked as though he felt a little foolish, "Well…give me back the device and I'll tell you. You know, you didn't ask me where I've been this whole time, and by the way, have you seen Aidan?"

Harry sat back down, and shook his head. That was a point. He suddenly felt extremely guilty- he hadn't even considered what their other friend, Aidan White (Boy #20) might be up to, or if he was okay. Going by the fact that Aidan was quiet and unsociable at school, Harry would probably expect Aidan to be all on his own.

"Let's go and find him!" Peter suggested suddenly, "Why don't you come with me? This lot aren't going to get you anywhere- they'll probably kill you eventually. Come on, with the tracker finding Aidan'll be a pile of piss!"

_No way._

Going with Peter was most certainly not on Harry's agenda. It would have been good to see where Aidan was…but no, he had to remain here. "Sorry, Peter…you go if you want, but I can't go anywhere, not after what they've done for me," he smiled apologetically.

"You never used to be so fucking soft," Peter said with scorn, "but I think I will go on my own, yeah." He picked up the tracker and the gun, before standing up, while Harry remained sitting down. Admittedly, he felt a bit of relief, but something was still bugging him.

"Peter," he asked, "where did you say you got that tracker?"

Peter smiled and leaned over Harry, still sitting on the bed, "Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you. This do for an answer?"

Before Harry could even react, Peter brought the tracking device down onto his skull. It all happened faster than he would ever have believed. The last thing he saw as the room slowly fading to black as he lost consciousness, the pain exploding between his ears as he fell into a lying-down position, was Peter yanking a pillow from underneath his head and shoving it onto his face, meeting with very little resistance. His unconscious body no longer able to respire, Harry Hayes died within a matter of seconds. He never really had time to register them, but the last things at the back of his mind were, behind all the shock and terror, a deep-seated sense of regret that he never got to be a real part of the crew in the manor house. Then there was the window…that damn open window…

* * *

**18:42**

Elizabeth was unable to rest. After preparing herself a cup of tea she decided to drink it in the kitchen, away from everyone else. After going upstairs with it, she opened the door to the study to find Michael and Carl having another heated argument, one in which she had no desire to participate. She didn't particularly want to talk to Harry, either, and she doubted that Stacey had anything of interest to say. In truth, it was nice to have a little time with her thoughts.

She took to thinking about Zoe and Rachel, both of her recently-deceased good friends. She couldn't quite comprehend that they were gone, and she didn't feel that sense of loss just yet. So, she focused on remembering the good times they had all had together; nothing special, just…being able to go to school and not think twice about the next day…

No, that was enough. She didn't _want_ to let her emotions get in the way. She had privately disagreed with Michael earlier, when he had suggested that Carl should be focusing on Luciano's memory. Although she didn't see what the fuck was so important about losing virginity, she understood that, God willing, they'd have time to mourn later.

She finished her tea, and wondered: how could they all possibly escape the island? There was, in truth, nothing that she could do with this collar on. If she had understood Miss Rothman correctly, then they could be detonated at any time, so if they tried to escape, well, that was the end of it. She pushed the thought away from her mind, and stared into her teacup. Looking over at the window, she could actually see the pane of glass rattling against the frame; the wind was really picking up out there, so there was all the more reason to stay indoors.

_Storm in a teacup…hmm…!_

Elizabeth's head jerked up at the mere thought. She had an idea, an actual decent idea! But what if she was getting her hopes up too high…it might not even happen…but it might! Well, they all had to be prepared, didn't they? She didn't want to excite them all, but…no, she _had _to say it. Of course, it all depended, but…where was her daypack? She left it upstairs, didn't she? Leaping out of her seat, she charged out the kitchen door and bounded up the stairs.

Elizabeth had slept in the largest bedroom, and this was where she had left all her belongings. She darted over to her bag and retrieved her pencil and her map- it didn't matter where she wrote it down, but it had to be on paper. She couldn't say it out loud, after all, given the microphones in the collars. So far, they'd all been playing ignorant about the microphones, to throw the bastards at the church hall off the scent, but now…now Elizabeth could hardly breathe.

On the back of her map, she wrote: "_We can take off collars if it stays all sto"_

_Shit! _

In her haste, she had ended up snapping the tip of her pencil. She'd have to get another one. Running out into the upstairs corridor, Elizabeth remembered that Harry had kept all his supplies in his room, including his axe. Barging in, she quickly remembered not to sound too eager, or cause too much attention; she didn't want Harry asking why she was so excited, and giving everything away.

Did she really have such a right to be excited? Her plan depended on a lot of things; bravery, trust, and a massive amount of chance. It might not be much, but it was all she had. All that they _all _had.

Entering the room, she knew in the first instant that something was wrong. She didn't even need to see Harry's body to realise that there was a very evil presence which caught her attention from the moment she opened the door. Grinding to a halt, she could feel in the air something moving behind her, and caught a slight breeze on the back of her neck as the blade buried itself there, the wound just deep enough to stop her- literally- dead in her tracks. Blood gushed out of her, as she collapsed onto the floor with a great thud, her life and plans destroyed.

* * *

**18:43**

Peter Mortimer couldn't believe what he had just done. He had barely had time to appreciate the fact that he had just killed his friend, never mind plan what to do next, when the tracker suddenly informed him that another person was in his midst. Thinking fast, he'd hidden behind the door with the axe which had apparently been given to Harry as his designated weapon (he knew this, because when he'd been asking Harry about it, his eyes kept flicking to the area below the bed- he was so shit at keeping a secret), and prepared for whoever it was to come in. He'd been reluctant to shoot, because that would alert the others to his presence, and he'd be outnumbered.

_Elizabeth…Liz Pullman…so it was you…_

Watching her lying on the floor, face-down, he felt quite rueful. If he'd had the choice of any of the people Harry had told him were in this house, it wouldn't have been the deaf girl to come barging in at the wrong moment. It almost felt like cheating. Now, he'd committed murder twice in a couple of minutes, and it was unbelievable that this group were letting it happen right under their noses.

He hadn't been lying when he had offered to take Harry away. Using Michelle's idea of not being alone would have been very useful in the long-term, and he'd genuinely liked Harry. Unlike Aidan, Harry wasn't ever reluctant to join in with Peter's crazy schemes, but he was essentially harmless- as he'd told Peter, he would never have hurt anyone if he could have helped it.

Peter looked at the cut on Elizabeth's neck and winced. It wasn't exactly clean; it was diagonal and messy at that. Then he looked over at Harry, who lay still on the bed, his mouth open but his eyes closed. Peter hadn't been able to stand being stared at. Come to think of it, being in this room with two bodies was pretty creepy.

Still, there was a positive side. There were only three people left, and, looking at the tracking device, Peter could see that they were all in the same room. He could even hear them arguing.

_Okay, then…get in there; shoot them all dead…I'll be off this island by midnight._

* * *

**18:45: Surviving Contestants: 23**


	22. Losers

**January 16****th**** 18:47**

Well, now things were looking up slightly. Peter Mortimer (Boy #15) was well aware of the danger of being on the island, but to be perfectly honest, he was past caring. By being forced to kill his friend Harry, Peter had proven to himself that if necessary, he could kill anyone. He would too, to get away from here and…_and what? I'll have to think about that later; now I have bigger problems._

Leaving Harry and Elizabeth's bodies to attract flies, Peter approached the door to the room in which he could hear voices. Taking a deep breath, pistol at the ready, he prepared to open the door and open fire on the guys inside, thus killing them quickly with a minimum of screaming. Then he'd get their weapons and be out of this place. He had no desire to share a house with five corpses, after all.

_No…better make them tell me what they know first, _he thought, _since there're three of them, they'll know a lot about who else is playing, or whatever. _Then, another thought occurred to him. _Harry said that they knew a way out or something. Better ask them about that first._

He raised his foot and kicked the door open, his pistol in one hand and the axe in the other. He aimed it straight ahead, focusing on Carl Mitchell (Boy #14)'s head as the boy started rolling down his trouser leg, of all things, presumably at the sound of the door crashing open. Carl's eyes widened with surprise, as Michael Hill (Boy #10), his face drained of colour, moved to the back of the room, taking a series of deep breaths. Behind his glasses, his eyes didn't even blink.

"What the hell's going on in here?" Peter sneered, "Did I just catch you two fags questioning your sexuality?" He felt such a thrill- _wait till I tell everyone about this! - Oh, wait, maybe not._

Carl's face was a picture. His face immediately turned red with fury as Peter started sniggering at the absurdity of his reaction. He spluttered indignantly, "I was showing Mike my wound from the-!" Then it clicked. Carl's sentence was cut short as his mouth gaped. He opened and closed it several times but no words came out. For a couple of seconds nobody spoke; Peter merely watched as Carl and Michael stared at Peter, and then at each other, the fear and confusion creeping into their faces.

Michael was the first to speak, and as he did, Peter trained his gun on him. "How did you…?"

"Get in?" Peter supplied, "well, I climbed into Harry's room actually. He was pretty hurt, wasn't he? I'm surprised that you went so far for him, now that I think about it." He smiled ruefully, "It's a pity that I had to finish him off, but he shouldn't have taken your side." Peter actually felt a little annoyed now; why hadn't Harry just taken up and joined him? Well, he'd probably known that he'd end up dead eventually, but still.

"You…you _killed Harry?" _Carl was aghast, "B-but...I don't understand…_why?_ Didn't he tell you that we were…well…" he trailed off, "but…you can't have killed him, he's just…sitting in that room." He pointed in a vague direction through the door to the large study in which they were now standing. "I…_why?_" he shouted desperately, "he was your friend, why would you do that?" Peter could see a tear emerging from Carl's eye, and he laughed incredulously.

"It was such a waste-"

"Of what?" asked Michael sharply as Carl sank into a chair, "Bullets? What, did you use a silencer or something?" It was only then that Michael's eyes fell on the axe in Peter's left hand. It was still stained with Elizabeth's blood. Michael stared straight into Peter's eyes. "You didn't…" he whispered quietly, the sound of his voice sending a chill down Peter's spine, though he didn't show it.

"No…" Peter replied, in an unintentional voice of genuine benignity, "not for _Harry,_ no…I put a pillow on his face. He didn't suffer, I made sure. Anyway, be quiet for now and I'LL BLOW YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF IF YOU GO NEAR THAT THING AGAIN!" Peter had only just noticed the crossbow lying on the floor at Carl's feet, the latter boy having just bent down, presumably to grab it without Peter's attention. Carl backed into the corner in silence, his hands held in the air.

Peter was quickly realising that this he was letting things slide. He couldn't let himself get distracted so easily, else they may manage to outwit him somehow. The fact that the two of them weren't blathering wrecks by now concerned Peter; how was he supposed to get any information out of them unless he applied force? Not only was torture not his style; he only had four bullets left in his gun.

"Now then," Peter continued, glaring at the other boys in turn furiously, "Harry mentioned that you had a plan to escape or something. What was that exactly? Tell you what," he said in a bargaining tone, "I'll tell you everything I know about the game if you tell me stuff you know, deal?"

"Why?" demanded Michael, his vocal pitch rising, "aren't you just going to kill us anyway? Don't tell him _anything, _Carl!" Michael turned to his friend, and raised his eyebrows, as though saying _"understand?"_, but from what Peter could see, Carl was in no mood to take orders. On the other hand though, Peter had to admire Michael's nerve.

"Did you kill Elizabeth?" he shouted, "did you? Tell me! I'll tell you what I know, shall I?" He didn't wait for a response, "I know that there is a way of this island- I think- but I don't know what it is yet, and I might tell you if I did, but if you forced us to take you with us I'd only kill you the moment your fucking back was turned, you bastard! I always knew were I weirdo, but I never thought you were actually a psycho! If you want to kill me, then go ahead, because I'm so…so sick of this! You…you bastard! Evil, psychotic…idiot!" He panted heavily.

Peter stood staring at him. He waited a moment to speak, "I am _not _an idiot- I've got in here haven't I? Is that your speech over now?" he laughed, "I was kind of hoping for more info about who might be playing the game or whatever, but I guess you're not in too much of a mood for that. Well, I have the tracking device- it's in my bag outside, that's how I found you lot here- so I'm not going to get killed by anyone. Oh, and, yes I killed Elizabeth. Nice and quick, just like Harry. And Callum." He ignored the looks of horror he got, and proceeded, "It looks like I'll just have to kill you both, and then go on to win the whole game! Easy!" It was strange, but Peter struck by the sudden notion that something was missing from the room. He'd drawn a breath to speak but now exhaled as he thought. What was it? It was so simple; the room looked empty but he couldn't say why. An obvious fact which temporarily escaped him.

_What's he looking at? It's like he's looking right through me, what is it?_

Then, at the point just before he could turn round to see who exactly Carl and Michael were staring at, he realised what that something was. How did he miss that? Harry had even _told_ him that there were four people besides himself here. The tracker had failed him. It had told him that three people were in this room, which he had forgotten as he's been taken aback by Carl's sleeve-rolling. That act may well have saved his life.

In that instant, Peter felt something cold and metal fly through his clothing and lodge itself into his lower back. It didn't hurt…until Stacey Phillips pulled the trigger on her stun gun.

"YAAAAARRGGHHHH! URGH, AH!" Peter screamed aloud as a two hundred kV of electrical discharge was sent coursing through his body. He collapsed to the floor, curling in agony, and he turned around to see Stacey in the doorway, glaring down at him in fury, as Carl and Michael called out her name in joy.

"Stacey! You're alright!"

"What took you so long?"

"I was only a few seconds, for fuck's sake! Bloody good thing I did sneak the taser downstairs with me, eh?"

Peter felt disgusted, utterly furious that he had been so stupid. The buzzing noise in his head had stopped, but his muscles were still contracting as he lay there. He didn't understand- his plan had been foolproof…once the pain had subsided, he became aware of the fact that he was no longer holding his gun…and that the three of them were all standing over him. Michael Hill held the pistol he had dropped.

Carl began to speak, "So…what do we do now?"

"Maybe we could, you know, keep him hostage if he's no danger anymore," offered Stacey, who may not have been aware of Harry and Elizabeth's deaths.

_No! Not again!_ Peter fought to gain control of his muscles. The others thought they had him on the ropes; that he was completely incapacitated, but no…he still had the axe in his left had. Gritting his teeth in determination, his eyes fiery with rage, he got a firm grip on the axe, his hold on which had slackened. With more strength than he knew he had, Peter battled through the agony as he left to his feet in less than a second, lunging at Michael with the axe, ready to cut his head clean off it he could. Peter's original gunshot wound in his arm burst open as he screamed, but it was all too late, as Michael fired the gun, his shock overriding his aim. A bullet flew into Peter's lower stomach, as he toppled over a chair, his head catching on a tabletop and bringing him to rest, blood pouring down over his legs.

Stacey, Michael and Carl did not say anything, but merely exchanged glances as Michael prepared the gun once again. But there was no need, it transpired. Peter thought: _Oh, well…looks like I've lost again…_perhaps the pain was making him delirious, _Are you going to kill me now, Michael? _He gazed vaguely around the room, decorated so finely, and pondered on how nice it was. Then, he dazedly looked up at his three classmates, his vision slightly blurred, before speaking clearly. "Look at you…nice and heroic, aren't you? Think you're under pressure now? Try this time tomorrow." Then, his head spinning and spinning, he sunk to the floor and the lights went out.

* * *

**18:56**

"Is he-?"

"Yeah, he's dead," spat Michael, prodding Peter's body with his foot, "Thank fucking God." He nudged the corpse until it lay face down, "And Stacey…" he turned to her, his face full of gratitude, "If I'm ever rude to you again-"

"Don't be like that," Stacey was quite repulsed, "It's weird. Anyway, I couldn't just leave you, could I?" She sighed deeply, "You shouldn't have been so quick to kill him, Michael- he could have been useful. So where are Harry and Liz?" It then dawned on her. "Oh, fuck," her face fell; "they're not-" She shrugged off Carl, who was clinging to her in an irritating manner.

He piped up "They might be okay!" though he sounded more pleading than sincere, "He could have been lying, right?" He looked at Michael, as though he should know.

"Well…we'll have to go and see. By the way, you're both okay aren't you?" He didn't mean physically; he himself felt very weak and shaken up. Stacey and Carl both nodded, and rushed out to go into Harry's room.

"Harry?" Carl called out hopefully, but got no response. His blood ran cold as he reached for the door handle. "Elizabeth?" He pushed the door open, but he found that it wouldn't swing open gently; something was blocking it. However, he managed to see more than he would have liked through the gap.

He immediately shut the door again when he saw Harry Hayes lying on the bed, his eyes shut, but his mouth wide open. He didn't see any need to go in anymore. He looked at Stacey, who said;

"Well…open the damn door then, Carl! What is it?"

"Harry's…he's…"

Stacey shoved him out the way and forced the door open in frustration, sliding through the gap when she pushed the door enough. Sure enough, Harry was lying there, and sure enough, he was dead. He was staring up at the ceiling, a definite expression of fear on his chubby face. Stacey hadn't seen a dead body before, and she put a hand to her mouth, feeling a slight urge to vomit. Michael pushed his way past her. "Oh, shit…"

Micheal's eyes fell on the thing which had been blocking the door; it was just getting worse and worse. It was Elizabeth, lying face down, a massive gash across her upper back. Stacey's attention had been focused solely on Harry, and she'd only just noticed the girl's body herself. "Liz….?" She croaked, moving over to touch her on the arm. A strand of hair covered the right side of her face, and she pulled it back to reveal her motionless face, and a strange bumpy scar which ran round the back of her ear to her upper neck. It had clearly not been inflicted on her recently. Stacey sniffed miserably, but something held between Elizabeth's fingers caught her eye. "What's this…?" she mused, prising it from the body. It was a map of the island, just like the one she herself had in her daypack. "Hey, look at this," Stacey called over to Michael, who stooped over to see it, "I don't get it; why was she carrying this?" She turned to the door, outside of which Carl was still standing, "And get in here, would you?"

Carl grudgingly obliged, cringing when he saw Elizabeth. He walked cautiously over to the other two. "I-is that her map?" he asked, and Stacey and Michael nodded. Carl frowned, "Hey Mike…d'you remember how Peter said that Harry let him in?"

"It was only a few minutes ago, yes."

"Maybe he Harry and Liz were going to leave with him…but then he double-crossed them." His eyes lit up, having evidently just remembered something. "Stacey…what did you and Liz talk about? When she left to go after you after you had a-"

"Tantrum," Michael completed, "He's right Stacey, you went off and she went to talk to you. You didn't…say anything nasty, did you?"

Stacey gave them both one of her famous glares, "No, I fucking didn't," she sounded close to tears, "What? You think she betrayed us because of me?"

"No!" Carl exclaimed, "Well…maybe. We know _he_ was the one who let Peter in, the idiot," he shook his head sadly as he looked over at Harry. "If he did, though, it's probably my fault. I said some things to him which I-" he paused, as Michael looked at him curiously, but then said more softly:

"You can't blame yourself, Carl…and neither can you, Stacey." This was obviously meant as comforting, but Stacey's expression told the others that it had distinctly the opposite effect.

"I'm _not _blaming myself. I've just saved your life, remember? Oh, and didn't you just say 'if I'm ever rude to you again'? Anyway, I- I didn't kill anyone…" she passed the map up to Carl as she said this, but stopped as the moonlight shone through the paper, "Wait a minute..." she turned the map over, "She's written something on here."

Carl and Michael craned over Stacey's shoulders to get a good look. Carl started to read it out loud: "'We can take-'" but Michael held a hand up and shook his head, signalling him to stop talking. Carl and Stacey looked confused, before Michael rushed out the room and returned a few seconds later with a pencil. He scrawled a message underneath Elizabeth's:

_Don't talk about this until we know what it means- they'll hear us through the collars._

Carl and Stacey nodded in agreement, before Stacey took the pencil off Michael and began to write her own message. She looked quite upset, and wrote quickly, and quite aggressively:

_Why didn't she just tell me about this?_

Then she spoke out loud. "We…didn't really say much, you know…" she was referring to their conversation earlier. "I was pissed off, and she just kind of said that she was better than me, and that it might be alright." She continued, reluctantly, "I wish I'd been nicer to her." She tapped the message with a pencil, and her thinking was clear: _She might have been able to finish this off if she'd come to me._

"I know," Carl replied, "Same with me and Harry…would someone please close their eyes?" he became suddenly angry. Normally, Michael would probably told Carl to do it himself, but then, he'd been less affected by the bodies than Carl, so he obliged.

The three of them then proceeded to turn Elizabeth over so that she lay on her back. As they did, Carl's heartbeat rested a little; from this angle, and with her eyes closed, there was no evidence that any attack had taken place.

The three of them sat in silence for quite some time, digesting everything that had happened. To Stacey, it felt like hours since she had fired her taser into Peter's back, putting him in mind-blowing pain. To Michael, his confrontation with Peter didn't seem as if it had happened at all, and it was strange to think that he had shot someone and felt absolutely nothing. Even while sitting in the room with them, Carl could barely believe that Harry and Elizabeth were dead, and had died under their noses. Even with their bodies in his sight, he felt as though they'd both come charging into the room at any moment.

Stacey then stood up purposefully, "Well," she said, "let's get our things together then. We can't stay here. _I _can't stay here."

"So we're giving up on Josh then?" asked Carl, in a tone that wasn't so much accusing; he sounded relieved. "Anyway…yeah, some people will have heard Michael killing Peter, so…"

Michael looked at him irritably, "Don't you mean that I _shot _Peter? Stacey was the one who came electrocuted him…so I guess she deserves the credit."

Nobody argued with that. Five minutes later, they were ready to brace the storm. It had been decided that Michael would carry the gun, Stacey the taser, and Carl the crossbow. They declined to take Elizabeth's chicken wire, but put Harry's axe- which Peter had used to kill Elizabeth- in one of the bags. The three of them prepared a few sandwiches, eating and drinking quite a lot before they prepared to leave. They were all aware that, being in a house with three dead classmates, they should all be feeling a lot more traumatised, but in truth there was just no time for that. Perhaps it would kick in later.

"Hey I just forgot something!" Carl exclaimed, so suddenly that it caused the others to jump. "Didn't Peter say something about a tracking device in his bag?"

"Yeah…in his bag, still in the room." Stacey was the first to finish preparing her things, and rushed out to take a look. Rummaging through the bag, she did indeed find a large metal object, with a screen which showed three dots closely merged together in the centre. She brought it in to show the boys.

"With this we'll never be in trouble!" Carl enthused, "Nobody'll get near us! Pity that idiot Peter didn't pay more attention to it- for him, anyway."

"I think I get it," Michael said, "it shows people, but it doesn't show levels. So Stacey's dot was hidden beneath mine or yours."

"Thank fucking God," Stacey whispered, before looking at the screen again. She blinked in disbelief at what she saw. "Um…so what are these two dots here then?" She pointed to two dots which had just appeared at the top of the screen, and Michael and Carl stared in alarm, as two people were fast approaching the manor house.

"Come on," snapped Carl, "let's get out of here. I'll take the tracker and we'll run in the opposite direction." He jolted out of his seat, followed by Stacey and Carl- dressed in raincoats they had found in the cupboard under the stairs- and headed for the front door, brandishing their weapons. Stacey, however, blocked their way as Michael went to open it.

"Wait!" she hissed, "They can't know we're here. Maybe they'll pass by- we can always check! I know, we'll hide behind the other doorways!" She gestured to three doors; one leading to the kitchen, one to the sitting room, and one to the hall, "Aim or weapons at the door. They won't expect that if they come!"

"Good idea!"

The three of them took up positions, Carl behind the kitchen door, his crossbow aimed and ready, the tracker still in hand. He felt a certain thrill as he did this, and noticed that the dots were still approaching. These two people would be here any second. They shouldn't be too dangerous though, not travelling together.

They were already at the heavy wooden door. Rather than hearing any attempt to break in, though, a person merely knocked. Carl caught Stacey's eye, and gestured for her to open the door. It had to be Josh, it had to be. Carl was looking forward to an explanation about Kiran, but he wondered who the other person was. He soon found out.

He and Kiran kept their weapons trained firmly on the door as Stacey cautiously opened it. A high-pitched female voice called out.

"Stacey!" cried Nina Fox (Girl #5) shrilly, "What's-?" She stopped dead, noticing the two boys with guns pointed straight at her, and when Stacey didn't respond to her. Carl could see that she was absolutely drenched; her brown hair stuck to her face and had been through the mill, though this didn't make her any less welcome here, as far as Carl was concerned. She may have been beautiful, but Carl was already thinking that she would be little to no use aiding their escape from the island. Nina turned to her companion, still obscured in the darkness. It was, of course, Joshua Johnson, his bulky frame coming into view.

"Alright, it's just me," he said gruffly, "you can put them down- hey, Mike, where did you get that gun?" he looked at Michael accusingly, who didn't immediately reply, but lowered the weapon only slightly.

Carl was the next one to speak up. "Just wait a minute! What happened to Kiran? You tell us that, and maybe we'll tell you once we've left this place." Aiming the gun at Josh, he felt surprisingly powerful, but he was mindful of the fact that Josh himself had a gun. He wished so, so much that Kiran had survived, and not Josh. Kiran wouldn't have been any kind of threat.

Josh was evidently taken aback, and Nina's lip curled as she addressed Carl, "Well then," she said arrogantly, seeming not to care about the fact that she herself was unarmed, "it looks like we've all got stories to tell, hmm? By the way, I heard that Liz and Harry were here- they upstairs?"

* * *

**19:14**

"You know what I don't understand, Miss Rothman?" Alexander Smith sat opposite Estella Rothman in the control room, as they both sat slurping on the spaghetti bolognese meals which Rothman had cooked. He had to admit, she'd been generous with the red wine- was that conventional?- and she'd also given him a couple of screwdriver cocktails to go with his meal, so his tongue may have been looser than it should have been.

Miss Rothman took a sip from her steaming coffee mug and replied, "What, Smith? What is it that you don't understand?" She looked at him drowsily.

"Well, I'm just being curious really. How did someone like you end up doing this job?" he asked, and at that point two other soldiers in the room, Joe Anderson and a younger man, Jack Wilkinson looked stopped monitoring their computers for a moment- Miss Rothman and Smith had moved their meal into the control room, both taking too long to eat it- and the two soldiers were evidently looking answer to that one too. Estella Rothman was only a young woman. No, more than that, she wasn't much more than a teenager herself, so how had she attained such a high position in the forces? She wasn't even competent; she just slacked off most of the time, and never helped out the others.

Miss Rothman looked surprised at the question, and put a hand to her mouth to avoid spluttering hot coffee all over the table. She looked a little sheepish, but then seemed to relax. "Let's talk about that later," she replied, "I don't want to bore you with the details."

"Oh, you could never bore me, ma'am." Jack Wilkinson said it, and he said it with an undertone of coldness which sounded quite threatening to Smith. Wilkinson was between him and Joe Anderson in age; maybe about twenty-seven, and he was easily the most committed of the six soldiers on the island. Smith was often unnerved by the way he performed his job so methodically and with an efficiency which at times didn't quite seem normal. Smith was a tall, broad man and an expression seldom crossed his pallid face, which was why Smith found it odd that he suddenly seemed to have developed a sense of humour.

Miss Rothman's eyes flickered to Smith and back to Wilkinson, obviously a little annoyed, "I'm sorry, _Jack, _but I don't have to discuss my employment or career with you, is that understood?" She stared him down, her cheeks flushed bright pink.

Wilkinson merely blinked and retained his usual monotonous manner. "Absolutely, ma'am," he replied, returning to his computer and putting his headphones on, before immediately taking them off again. "Peter Mortimer's just been killed," he announced casually.

"Really?" Smith was surprised, "isn't he that…disturbed one?"

Miss Rothman shrugged, but Anderson nodded. "Yeah, he killed - Callum, wasn't it? - quite a few hours ago. From what I heard on the microphone, he's absolutely-" he put a finger to his head and made a series of quick rotations "- mad as a box of frogs. Didn't seem all that bright, either." Anderson sighed heavily, "Shit, I know way too much about these kids. The sooner I get that promotion, the happier I'll be."

"I think it's a good thing," Rothman said, "I mean, you wouldn't catch me taking so much interest in these kids. It's qualities like that which get people all kinds of places in this business. Ability to take on board lots of information, that's what you've got." She smiled appraisingly at Anderson, and Smith felt a bit put out.

"Well, don't count on anything yet," Wilkinson said pessimistically, "You know that the Sergeant's word isn't law."

"I know that," Anderson shot back scathingly, "Stop trying to bring me down, would you?"

Wilkinson ignored him. "Oh, just a moment, two other people have died, too. All in the same area, so it looks like some kind of fight's going on there. Elizabeth Pullman and Harry Hayes copped it a few minutes ago. Perhaps they were killed by Mortimer."

Anderson moved over to get a look at Wilkinson's screen. "Oh, yes…in the northern part of the island. Quite a few kids there, by the looks of it." He'd evidently seen the five dots all merged together as they similarly appeared on the tracking device currently carried by Carl Mitchell.

"Well, I'm just glad that it's all going more quickly," Miss Rothman remarked, "Nothing good'll come out of the game being dragged on for anyone, believe me." She turned to her 'date' Alexander Smith and spoke more quietly, "I swear, I'll be looking for another job as soon as this is over," she complained, "I mean, how the fuck can the others have been doing it for so long? Nope, I'm getting out of the business altogether." She fiddled with her fork, twirling the spaghetti which had by now gone stone cold.

Smith felt a little disappointed. He'd almost certainly be continuing with the military or working directly as an agent for the State for the rest of his life. It paid fairly well, plus, so far, it had all been fairly easy work. "So I guess I won't see you again after this game's finished?" he asked Rothman.

"Well, I might still work for the military, I suppose, but not like this," she looked around her, an expression on her face which suggested she had a bad smell under her nose, "It's just so boring. I thought it would be alright but apart from being boring it-" she lowered her voice to a whisper, "Look, Smith, I want to tell you something, but I can't here. Come outside, would you?" She slid her chair out from under the table and headed for the door, beckoning for Smith to follow her. He did so, after briefly looking at Anderson, who raised his eyebrows suggestively. Wilkinson gave no response.

"What is it?" he asked earnestly, now genuinely intrigued. Rothman had been uncomfortable in the room, and he could tell. Right now, as the two of them stood at the top of the stairs, she looked quite upset, "You can tell me," he took her hand, but instantly pulled it away; Miss Rothman was hardly a regular girl you could do that kind of thing to.

She looked at him and smiled to a degree that was almost kind. She leaned back against the wall and ran her hands through her blonde hair nervously, "Look, I wanted to tell you the reason I got this job," she explained, "because it's getting harder for me to have to listen to them talking about it." She inclined her head towards the room they had just walked out of, "The thing is, Alex, I…" she paused for so long that Smith thought she wasn't going to say anything.

"Yeah?" he asked gently.

"I won the game," she confessed, "three years ago. That's why I'm here, partly." She sighed, seemingly in relief, "I'm glad I told you, because like I said I-"

"You _won _the game?" Smith said in disbelief, "You mean _Survivor?_" His blue eyes blinked several times in shock as Miss Rothman nodded.

"Yeah, the higher-ups thought I might be a good person to have running the thing, since I have 'experience'. She laughed quietly at the absurdity of that reasoning.

Smith didn't quite know what to say, but he supposed it made sense after all. There was no way that she could have got in on merit, which was for certain. But something still bothered him.

"How did you do it?" he asked her.

She looked at him as though she thought he hadn't understood her. "Well…you know how the game works. I was put in with my classmates and-"

"No, I mean, how hasn't it wrecked your life? You seem perfectly mentally stable…" he only realised that that may well not be true as the words came out his mouth. "What I mean to say is-"

"What difference does it make?" Rothman asked coldly, "I told you because I felt like I could trust you not to tell anyone. You can't judge me: you're not exactly Nelson fucking Mandela yourself, soldier-boy."

"I wasn't! That wasn't my intention, Estella-"

"No first name basis for you, mate," she sneered, "not now anyway. How dare you insult me? I outrank you. And, for the record," she hissed, "Yes, I killed several people but I had to survive, didn't I? It doesn't mean I should be a basket case. I would have told everyone sooner, but I was told not to by-"

"Estella!" The Instructor appeared at the bottom of the stairs, looking fairly annoyed, "And Smith; you two should be working, not having a domestic on the State's time." He carried a cup of tea and a clipboard, and his younger inferiors moved out of his way as he reached the top step, "This place smells of tomatoes…I hope everything's in order," he said sternly, and Smith was reminded of just how quickly his attitude and demeanour could change. Right now, he looked less like the witty, personable middle-aged man he had been earlier and more like the hard-nosed boss that he actually was.

"I was just returning to my station, Serge," replied Smith, bowing his head respectfully.

"Good," The Instructor snapped, "And I hope for your sake that your excessive drinking doesn't impinge upon your work." He frowned, and in that moment as the man stood between himself and Miss Rothman, Smith remembered something Rothman had said about her victory only being 'partly' the reason she was here. The relationship between herself and the Sergeant had always been secretive, and Smith began to get an idea of exactly what that relationship was. Quietly, with one final look at Estella, Smith turned and headed back to get on with his duties, pondering something important.

* * *

**19:27: Surviving Contestants: 22**


	23. Deal With The Devil

**January 16****th**** 19:29**

Sebastian Hall had taken to gazing out into the unknown depths of the forest once again. He and Anne-Marie Hunt, having been forced to abandon their idea of heading for the source of the bonfire after hearing gunshots, had decided to head northwest to check out the island's western shore. The storm had begun to subside slightly, but Sebastian decided not to disturb a sleeping Anne-Marie for a few minutes. Unfortunately, looking over at her now, she was snoring heavily, so it was unlikely she'd wake up naturally any time soon. He'd just heard a shot ring out not too far away, and he was beginning to get a little worried. More than he already was, that is.

_Steve, Mia, where are you both? I can't take any more of this!_

He and Anne-Marie had stopped off in a quaint log cabin information centre, which had been set up to give information to tourists about the different routes available, as well as pictures and facts about all the lovely birds and animals that they might see. It must have been out of business for some time though; sheets of dust and cobwebs gave the room a very stuffy- yet authentic- feel. Sebastian started reading a poster about golden eagles, aiming his torch very closely at the writing, to give off as little light as he could. He thought he'd seen a golden eagle before, actually. It looked like the kind of bird a true hunter would go after, but there'd be no shooting animals on this island.

Anne-Marie was good at shooting. Neither of them had spoken about the way she had totally turned the tables on Violet MacDonald earlier, in a way which would have been cool had it not involved tossing Violet to a pack of wild animals. He didn't want to think that she was hurting too much, but she'd brought it on herself, in fairness. He also didn't want to see that take-no-prisoners side of Anne-Marie again; he was happy with the placid, mild-mannered version. He didn't want to be defended by her.

"_The average golden eagle has a wingspan of over two metres"…Ok, I already knew that, and it doesn't help me now!_

He could still hear Anne-Marie snoring, but he also heard her turn over on the wooden floor (no bed of any kind was available, and she'd worn herself out, so this hadn't mattered at all), so perhaps she wasn't resting all that peacefully. Sebastian was struck with an idea. When he'd been younger, his father had often opened his bedroom window after he'd gone to sleep, so that the fresh air might wake him up more easily the following day. The cabin windows might open…and it wouldn't be dangerous….

_Just stupid! Give her a good shake! _

But Sebastian felt like indulging his little whims. And if the, er, sounds of the evening wind did cause her to jolt from sleep, then good. He couldn't bear waiting around anymore. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic: a single person in a sea of darkness and death. So he went over to the window, and unhooked the latch, swinging the pane out by only one notch. An icy, sharp wind blew into the building, but once Sebastian backed away he could tell that the gale was dying down.

Of course, he drew his pistol once again, just in case anyone nearby happened to have noticed the open window. He could see Anne-Marie turning over uncomfortably in her sleep and flashed his torch at her to see if she was waking. Unfortunately, her eyes snapped open at the sudden beam of light and, blinking, she let out a small shriek and clutched the rug she lay under close to her chest, frightened.

"Anne-Marie, you're awake! It's just me!" Sebastian assured her, as she took heavy breaths and regarded him furiously.

"What the fuck's going on?" she hissed, "turn the torch off! I was fast asleep…and why's the window open? Do you make a habit of this?" She hunched herself up into a sitting position. "Are you fucking kidding? Shining a light in my face like that…"

"That was an accident!" Sebastian replied truthfully, "I didn't mean to scare you. I opened the window so that we could hear what was going on outside; you know how we came across Violet back there? And I wanted to see if you were asleep." He paused and said after a few seconds, "Sorry."

Anne-Marie shook her head in impatience and promptly dropped back to the floor. "Well, I'm going back to sleep then…wait, what time is it?" She quickly looked at her own watch, and lit the backlight. It had just gone half seven. "So…who died? Did anyone else die?" she asked more softly. "And what about the danger zones?" Her eyes widened in alarm, "We're not in one _now_ are we?" She unzipped her bag and brought out her own map, "_Please _tell me you marked them down! Well, did you?" she snapped, before giving him a chance to answer.

"Yes!" snarled Sebastian, sitting down next to Anne-Marie and producing his own map, "I had too, since you slept right through."

"Was it that much to do? Too hard? I take it none of your lot died?"

This was a cruel comment, the kind she'd made earlier and apologized for. So much for that, he thought, but didn't say anything. "Chris, Kiran, Rachel, Zoe and Janine are all dead now. These are the danger zones." He passed the map over to her, and she quickly copied the writing onto her own map, sighing deeply.

"So, there are…how many left? Twenty-six, twenty-seven? I..." she paused and bit her lip, "I don't know if we'll ever make it, Sebastian." She must have been referring to their survival. She idly started twirling and rubbing her plaited hair, and stood up, stretching her arms and walking away from Sebastian. "I'm going to use the toilet, then I think we should get going, while it's not raining too much."

Sebastian nodded, "Good idea. That's why I woke you up. Well, _accidentally_ woke you up," he said, rolling his eyes at his own mistake.

Anne-Marie's voice came from the bathroom to the side of the main entrance. "Thanks for that," she replied humourlessly, her voice echoing off the tiles slightly, "Well, I'm awake now, so it doesn't really matter now does it? Oh, and uh, Sebastian, d'you mind leaving the cabin and waiting outside, since we're going now anyway?" She sounded a little embarrassed, and Sebastian was a little taken aback.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously, and then a cold chill crept up his chest as he thought of what Anne-Marie had just said: "_I don't know if we'll ever make it, Sebastian"._ He swiftly aimed his torch at the area where Anne-Marie had been sleeping, and sure enough, her revolver wasn't there anymore. She'd locked the door to the bathroom and asked him to wait outside…

"Anne-Marie!" Sebastian shouted, banging on the door with his fist, "what are you doing in there? Don't do anything stupid!"

"Sebastian?" Anne-Marie exclaimed back at him, obviously terrified, "what are _you _doing? Is someone here?" Sebastian heard her cocking her gun- his heart stopped- and then, to his intense relief, fumbling with the lock on the inside of the door. "Sebastian! Let me out!"

Sebastian instantly relaxed as he let go of the door handle and stepped back to let her pass. He wiped his brow as she appeared in the doorway, her face white with anguish and fear. "What?" she flung her hands in the air, before realising what Sebastian had been thinking as she glanced at the gun in her right hand. She looked heartily dismayed. "You didn't seriously think I'd _kill _myself?" she whispered.

"Well…I just wanted to be sure. Most people don't take guns to the bathroom," he pointed out, a little resentful. "I don't know what I thought! You told me to wait outside; what was I supposed to think?"

"That it's not nice to know people can hear you in the bathroom, maybe?" Anne-Marie suggested. "I thought someone was attacking you! You were screaming so hard…" At that moment, the smallest of twitches appeared at the corners of her mouth, and her eyes couldn't meet his. Sebastian glared at her, and she actually snickered.

"I'm glad you think it's so funny!" Hurtfully, Sebastian turned away from her and proceeded to the exit, "come on, we're leaving now aren't we?" he asked moodily.

"We've got no choice now!" Anne-Marie hastened into the main room to pack up her things and swung the strap of her pack odd her shoulder. "Anyway, why are you so annoyed?" She walked over to where Sebastian was standing and the two of them aimed their weapons at the door, before Sebastian unlocked the door (it could only be locked from the inside, oddly) and the two of them cautiously stepped out into the night.

It was almost pitch black. The only light came from the moon up above, already quite high in the sky, but occasionally the moon would disappear behind dark, thick clouds. The two of them were surrounded by forest, and it would be nigh on impossible to tell if anyone could be lurking. So, with this in mind, the two headed west via the trail via which they had come, being careful to keep to the verges. For a while they didn't speak, before Sebastian broke the silence.

"Anne-Marie?"

"Yeah?"

"I just realised that I don't know anything about you. We've been so busy…staying alive that we've never really talked to each other about normal things. And I don't think I ever talked to you at school. I mean, do you just have a normal family?"

Anne-Marie was startled to hear this question, and even more shocked that she'd barely thought about her family at all since the game began. She assumed that they knew by now that her class had been selected, but she couldn't imagine what their reaction would be.

"Umm, yeah, they're normal enough. I live with my parents, but my sister moved out about a year ago to go to university, so it's just the three of us now. She's their favourite though, Andrea. She's really clever and pretty and…anyway, my family really aren't that great," she said dismissively, "why? What's yours like? I bet they all love you."

_Odd thing to say. _"Well, yeah my dad does, anyway. I don't have a mam." Sebastian began to regret making small talk. "I don't know where she is. They split up a few years ago and I think she's a stewardess on a plane. She sends me birthday cards though," he added, trying and failing to be optimistic.

"Oh, I'm sorry…I didn't know that. So…um…do you just live with your dad then?"

Sebastian brightened up a little. "Yeah," he said contentedly, "he's great. We're just mates really. When my mam left us he just became a single parent. He taught me how to use a gun and play sports and stuff. We used to do loads together… but now he just spends all his time with his girlfriend. They're having a baby," he admitted, as though it were something to feel guilty about.

Anne-Marie wasn't sure how to answer immediately. The two of them had slowed to a gentle walk, knowing that they weren't in a danger zone and having no real destination. They walked side-by-side and Anne-Marie could see Sebastian's narrow, unhappy face out of the corner of her eye. "Oh, well, that's not so bad," she replied, trying to be diplomatic, "I mean; the oldest child's always the favourite. And if she isn't even living with you then she might not even keep the baby."

"Maybe…" mused Sebastian, before looking peeved again, "Oh, but they wouldn't have told me beforehand if they were getting rid of it, would they?"

"No, I suppose not…but hey, it's not that bad. Like I said, you're still your dad's first child and that counts for a lot. Besides, you'll probably have moved out when the baby grows up…if you ever get back there, that is."

"That's exactly the point!" Sebastian faced her, his face flushed, "what if I don't make it back to him alive? If he's having a baby then he'll be too busy with the kid to think about me, just like she was…" he trailed off, and started walking ahead of Anne-Marie.

"Don't say that…" Anne-Marie tried to be comforting, "You just said he was a really good dad, so he's not just going to forget about you. But, even if you- we- don't find a way off the island, you'll be dead. It's not like it'll make any difference either way, right?" She waited for an answer, but she got none, so she went on, "If I die here, then my parents'll just be glad it wasn't Andrea. _Saint _Andrea; it's all they ever talk about." Talking more to herself than Sebastian, she continued. "'Why can't you be like your sister, Anne-Marie?' Or, 'Why don't you make yourself look pretty, Anne-Marie? No man'll ever want you.' Or, 'We're going away for the weekend, Anne-Marie, I know you won't leave the house a mess; you're not like those popular girls.' Or-"

"Oh my God…" Sebastian whispered.

"I know, it's such bullshit-" Anne-Marie got cut off when she caught a whiff of what Sebastian had; the stench was coming to her left. Of course, she knew what it was, and memories of Kimberley Jones, Ewan Stone and Belle Orbison came flooding back. She had no intention of witnessing another body. "Oh, fuck…that stinks…let's get out of here." She put a hand to her nose, "Sebastian?"

Sebastian ignored her completely and turned into the bushes and hedges, heading towards the source of the stench, bobbing under branches and stepping on sticks, not bothering to keep the noise down. He reached a large oak tree and turned back to Anne-Marie impatiently. "Come on…we have to look…it could be someone we know…and liked."

Anne-Marie reluctantly followed him, but more cautiously, with her gun aiming past Sebastian. The last thing she needed, aside from an assailant, was the likes of Violet MacDonald crouched up over a dead body. She wouldn't make the same mistakes again. Upon approaching a row of bushes, Anne-Marie could tell that a body was waiting for her on the other side, and she beckoned to Sebastian to look first. "It was your idea!"

Sebastian took a deep breath before crouching down, and parting the branches of the hedge. It was a fairly open area, so the light of the moon and stars wasn't obscuring his view, but he half-wished that it had. What he saw wasn't pretty.

Francesca Simons was lying there, her curly red hair easily visible and recognisable. She lay entirely on her back, her freckled face gazing, fraught, up at the night sky. From this angle, Sebastian could see that her face had suffered a couple of wounds, as some bruising was clear against her sallow, frigid skin. What had evidently killed her, though, had been a blow to her abdomen of some kind. Her grey poncho was marked by a crimson stain right in the centre, though much of the blood must have been washed away by the rain. It was enough for Sebastian; he didn't need to see any more than that. After about a second, he let go of the branches, and let them sway back into place

"Well?" asked Anne-Marie.

"It's Francesca," Sebastian said curtly, "I…I think she was stabbed…"

Anne-Marie, now finding herself curious, decided to take a look for herself. She was standing a little way to Sebastian's right, and so she stood on her tiptoes and pulled the branches down a little so she could get a clearer view. Directly below her was a body, and it belonged to Francesca alright. Francesca had been a decent sort of girl as far as Anne-Marie knew. A bit of an outcast from the other girls, just like her, but the difference was that Francesca had actually seemed to _like _being an individual or 'independent'. She liked alternative music, which put Anne-Marie right off her.

_Oh, God…I can't believe I cared about that…_

Then, as she raised her head from looking at Francesca's corpse, another disturbing object came into view. About twenty feet away, lying in the long grass in a heap, was what was unmistakeably another body. Anne-Marie hadn't seen it at first, because it was lying face-down, and she'd been focusing entirely on Francesca. The corpse came into view as the moon re-emerged from behind a cloud.

"Hey, Sebastian?"

"Hmm?"

"Was Francesca ever friendly with Luciano?"

"Luciano Estevez?"

Anne-Marie blinked. "Yes, that Luciano."

"Oh, you're so funny. Why?"

"Because I can see his body, too. Right over there." Anne-Marie pointed her finger in an obscure direction, "I'm going to have a look." She carefully manoeuvred her way through the foliage and went beyond the bushes.

"Oh, Anne-Marie…you're kidding right?" Sebastian moaned, "Not another one?" He got up and followed her, preparing himself for another horrific sight, similar to Francesca. This one, if anything, was even worse.

Luciano's skin had lost all its darkness, and Sebastian was surprised that Anne-Marie had been able to recognise him so quickly- with his face in the ground, he could have been Tyson Baxter; he was roughly the same build- but what drew Sebastian's attention was, naturally, the injury which had caused the boy's death. He'd expected another stabbing, but-

"Oh my God…his head's been bashed in…" Anne-Marie turned her head away as she looked at the massive dent in the crown of Luciano's skull. There were several patches of dried blood which, along with the hair, hid the openings into the head from which the gunk had oozed out. Anne-Marie looked in alarm at Sebastian. "They've been dead a while, right? They were on the second announcement?" She held her gun tightly and looked all around as though expecting someone to appear.

Which they did.

"Yes, their killer probably left the vicinity long ago."

The voice was male, and in speech, it was oddly mature and each word was sort of clipped. It certainly wasn't Sebastian replying. He and Anne-Marie let out yelps of fear and aimed their guns in all directions, having been too startled to figure out where the voice had come from.

"Who's there?" demanded Sebastian, his fingers on the trigger of the machine gun quivering, as Anne-Marie fumbled with her torch in her pockets, turning it on full beam, no longer caring about being seen. "Show yourself, or I'll shoot you to pieces!"

A crunching noise came from their right and Anne-Marie whipped around to direct the beam of light directly into the face of Leo Davison, emerging from behind a thorny bush. Leo brought up his hands to his face, blinded. The light also reflected off a shiny carving knife.

"Alright," Leo said quickly, "you can turn your torch off now, it's only me."

Anne-Marie did so, and immediately put both hands on her revolver, aiming it squarely at Leo, who looked fairly unperturbed. He was quite filthy, by the look of things, but more importantly, he didn't seem to have a gun- and he was entirely alone. For a moment, nobody seemed to able to think of anything to say, but then Anne-Marie thought of something pretty important. "Leo, you scared the hell us; why were you hiding behind that tree?"

"Yeah!" Sebastian exclaimed, "You'd better explain yourself, Leo. I don't want a creep like you anywhere near us." From where she stood, Anne-Marie could see just how terrified Sebastian had been, and how upset he was at having been surprised like that. She felt as though Leo was skating on thin ice, particularly when he merely raised his eyes in offence.

"That was uncalled for," he said, "I think you're forgetting that we're in this game together, Sebastian, and we've all been through a lot. We can't all be lucky enough to have a machine gun now, can we?" He gazed at the weapon greedily, and continued, "It's not as though I meant to scare you. Besides, I didn't just reveal myself for no reason; I feel as though I can trust you…although you do make an unlikely pair."

"What does that mean?" demanded an annoyed Anne-Marie, "and what do you really want? Do you know who killed Francesca and Luciano? It looks pretty weird that you just happen to be here with a knife, you know?"

"Of course I didn't kill them, if that's what you think," he snapped irritably, "Besides," he added smugly, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but these two died hours ago. Do you imagine I just hung around here? In any case, as you can plainly see, Luciano was hit with a mallet or something. Search my bag if you want; I have nothing on me like that." He tossed his daypack forward, and Sebastian dashed forward to rummage through it.

"Keep an eye on him, Anne-Marie."

"What do you think I'm going to do, Anne-Marie?" Leo mumbled, "Stab you while you point a revolver at me? Please."

Anne-Marie decided not to respond; he had a point after all. Still…it was just so, so odd to find him here, and for him to be so brave- or stupid. She'd known Leo Davison for quite a long time now, and she knew that had to treat extra carefully with him. This guy's behaviour was a lot different and less predictable than Violet MacDonald's, and he was more difficult to read. She kept looking at him, and he looked right back at her, his eyes not blinking once. He was clever, yes, but at the same time…

"OK, I can't find anything dangerous in here," Sebastian zipped up the bag, before tossing it back to Leo, "Now," he went on sternly, "you tell us what it is you can possibly do for us?"

"Well, I want to just tag along with you, and not be alone in all this," Leo explained, sounding less robotic and more genuine, "I thought that since I only have a knife, you'd realise that you'd always be in control. Is it so much to ask from a friend?"

"Since when were we pals, Leo?" Sebastian asked in scorn, "You've never so much as talked to me. We're very different. I know nothing about you, so why should I-?"

"Hey, I have lots of non-academic friends," Leo butted in, "Like Jonathan... the poor guy…and just because I'm not _popular _doesn't mean that I'm not trustworthy, right Anne-Marie?"

Before Sebastian or Anne-Marie could react to this bit of blatant rudeness, Leo got to his knees and unzipped his backpack, retrieving his map. He gestured to Sebastian and Anne-Marie to crouch down and take a quick look.

"See this area here?" Leo pointed at a very specific region of the map; zone J-02, which coincidentally was exactly where Sebastian and Anne-Marie had planned on heading before running into Leo. "I've traversed the entire southern half of the island, and there's a little settlement there, along with a tiny little shop. I can't imagine they have a roaring trade, but that's by-the-by." He looked directly at Sebastian now. "I bet you'd like to know where some of your friends are."

Sebastian regarded him contemptuously, "Well, yeah, but what's it to you?"

"I saw Mia in that area just an hour or so ago."

"Really?" Sebastian exclaimed loudly, "Is she alright?"

"How should I know?" Leo answered flatly, "I spotted her in a window, and she looked fairly uninjured. But I guess you'll need me to come with you to guide me there?" he asked.

"Why's that?" Anne-Marie asked pointedly, "You've already told Sebastian where she is; why does he need you to take him there?"

Leo shrugged, "Well, I could be lying, couldn't I? Alternatively, I could be telling the truth, and it would be far safer to take me to point out the precise house I saw her in. So, here'd the deal: You and Sebastian allow me to stay with you, and I guide you wherever you want to go. Let's face facts; I'm not really a danger to you, am I? I'm armed with a carving knife! And I'm on my own." He smiled, evidently feeling confident that the 'deal' had been accepted.

Mia Selwyn was out there on her own, according to Leo. She hadn't been in brilliant shape the last time Anne-Marie had seen her, but she had survived for quite some time now. Unless, of course, she was one of the ones playing the game. In school, Mia had always been a real tomboy; really feisty, so it might be a possibility…Anne-Marie had no real way of knowing. What she _did_ know, though, was that there was no way Sebastian would ever consider-

"Fine," stated Sebastian decisively, "But only because I really want to make sure Mia's safe," he assured Leo, as though he might get some sort of wrong idea, but the latter boy seemed satisfied enough. "And I think we should know what you've been up to. We found…we found Belle, you know, stabbed."

"S-stabbed?" Leo looked away, "Oh, that's just horrific. You don't think she suffered too much do you? I knew she was dead, but...she was a friend of mine, you know?"

"If you say so," Anne-Marie chipped in, "like Sebastian just said, she was _stabbed. _In the _back._ And like you said, you've got a _carving knife-"_

"You can't think that I had anything to do with that!" Leo protested, "I hadn't even seen her-"

"Well let's leave it there, then," Anne-Marie said, her and her voice rose slightly, "but remember, you were the one who _also _said that you 'could be lying', weren't you?" She waited for Leo to make a response, but he merely stood there, lost for an answer.

"OK then, Anne-Marie…I think we should get going." With thoughts of Mia in mind Sebastian was the first to start quickly moving, and as Anne-Marie moved into a natural position just behind a silent Leo, he reminded himself that, as Leo had said, with the machine gun, he was the one holding the cards.

He just hoped that Leo had no hidden plans to make him drop them.

* * *

**19:59**

Nicole Nicholson trudged miserably through the woods, in need of sleep and her wounded shoulder aching. She'd had enough of this game, and it wasn't even close to being over yet. She'd killed five people so far, and had recently discovered that her old mate Janine Carter had met her end during the same six-hour time period as Rachel and Zoe.

_Janine's dead. Janine's dead….all my friends are gone now. I really am independent now._

No, that was false…Steve Wilkinson was still alive, somewhere, and Nicole needed to speak to him. She felt as though she'd been around the island ten times, and had seen no sign of him. He was proving to be more elusive than she'd initially thought, as were her other classmates. It was strange, but she thought she'd heard voices only a few minutes ago. She passed it off as being her imagination and forgot about it

Darkness had descended hours ago, and Nicole could barely see her hand in front of her face, but she kept going nonetheless. She'd always had a keen eye, and under cover of darkness she could sneak up on someone. Sitting in a house wasn't going to get anything done, and there were bound to be a few kids scurrying around these parts (she was more or less at the island's dead centre). She wondered who the dangerous ones were.

_Peter Mortimer, and possibly his mates. Tsk, they'll be so easy to take down. There has to be some bullied kid who's at it too; that's how these things work. Michelle Ashanti; I wouldn't trust that bitch. The freaks like Sam Rothschild or that emo-girl Violet. Too easy. They'll all be so easy. _

Nicole wasn't scared of the others; nobody she'd come across so far had managed to put up a decent fight. She was more worried that they'd all hide away from her until the time elapsed and then…well, if she was going to die, then she'd rather it not be at the hands of anyone in her class. Then at least it wouldn't be her own fault. She didn't regret what she'd done either. Killing people was nothing. They'd all turn against each other eventually anyway, so she was there to get it over and done with. Well, there might be some who would rather wait out their collars, but those were the same people who might commit suicide before, so it wasn't all bad. Maybe Janine had killed herself since Callum Harrison was dead by the first announcement. Nicole doubted that, though.

One thing Nicole did regret, however, was getting involved with Steve Wilkinson in the first place. He probably felt the same way. Of course, she couldn't have known that they'd both end up part of this experiment, but still, she regretted it enormously. This whole thing would be so much easier if it weren't for him. She stopped walking for moment, to think about what she'd do when she saw him. A nasty thought crept into her head as she remembered that Mia Selwyn was still alive. He'd probably be with her.

_If that's what I find, after spending all this time looking for him, I'll kill them both. I'll make her watch him die, and then when she's blubbing, I'll stick this grenade in her fucking mouth and use her brain as an icepack for my god-damned shoulder!_

That was a little over the top, but she'd make them both suffer somehow. Mia Selwyn wasn't a real tomboy. Nicole knew that she was just some…gay man trapped in a woman's body, and that she adored Steve. Nicole didn't care, just so long as Mia never had the nerve/stupidity to try anything. In this situation though, well…

Nicole slumped to the ground, resting her head against a tree. Now she'd made herself depressed as well as tired. She couldn't decide what to do now. She could keep going in the same direction and try scouring the mountain again, or she could head west, in the opposite direction from the place she had killed Zoe and Rachel. No living people would want to stick around in that clearing.

So, Nicole checked her map, and saw that if she headed south, and then slightly east, she'd come to the main residential area on the island. Of course, most of it was now a danger zone, but there was still just a small area of land which was safe. Fleshing people out of houses was what she had been dreading, but it had to be done, and once she'd killed someone, she could stay in that house a bit more comfortably. She decided that she wasn't going to succeed without any rest, so she needn't keep denying herself. But was anyone brave enough to stop so near to a danger zone? She didn't know, but she could always-

"Aargh!"

Nicole cried out in terror, as, out of nowhere, she felt an invisible pair of hands push her from behind, causing her to fall face first onto the forest floor. In the instant she hit the ground, the cold earth on her palms and face; she momentarily simply did not understand what was happening. She lay frozen for a moment, before attempting to spring forward and get back on her feet, but a swift kick to the back of her knees caused her to crumple back onto the floor with a scream.

"Urgh…" Nicole found herself with cold dirt around her lips. She spat out violently, feeling as though she was about to retch, before at last craning her head around to see her attacker. She couldn't make out the facial features as the big girl dropped down to her side, grabbing her by the hair and forcing her to turn her head away. Nicole cried out again, before suddenly remembering that she was armed. Most of her weapons were in her pack, which had slid down her left arm as she fell down the first time, but the shotgun was still in her right hand! She felt for the trigger, and then, with a lot of pain, attempted to use her left to pull back the magazine. She'd never used it before, but she certainly knew how. Unfortunately, the girl attacking her had let go of her hair and put both of her hands on the gun, trying to grab it out of Nicole's hands.

_Not fucking likely, bitch._

Now free to move her body, Nicole writhed around and looked her attacker squarely in the face. The terrified and sweating chubby face framed by a brown bob cut belonged to none other than Jasmine Sanderson, who looked even more surprised with the situation than Nicole. In her own shock, Nicole merely spluttered out a series of furious noises.

"You…what? Bitch! Fucking…! Give me my gun back!" Nicole shrieked, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Nicole yanked at the gun, but to no effect; Jasmine was physically her equal in strength. "Get. The. Fuck. OFF MY GUN!" Nicole tugged with each syllable, "You'll fucking pay for this!"

Jasmine stood rather awkwardly, as though she didn't quite know what she'd got herself into. She took a series of heavy breaths as she held on the barrel of the gun with all her might, and dug her heels into the ground. Finally, sound escaped her dry lips. "You…you killed Daniel didn't you?" She regarded Nicole with contempt, who in a moment of weakness, allowed her surprise to take over. The gun slid right out of her hands, leaving it with Jasmine. The girl gazed at it, dumbstruck, before pointing it at Nicole.

_Okay, now to talk my way out of this one…_

Nicole wasn't the type to lie or manipulate, which set her aside from many other female bullies. She didn't have any skills which allowed her to pass herself off as just an ordinary girl, and Jasmine had apparently witnessed her murder of Daniel. For a few seconds, Nicole merely stared her opponent down in revulsion and fury. How could it be that this overweight, stupid kid had managed to escape her notice not only in the woods right now, but earlier too? Jasmine Sanderson shouldn't even still be alive; Nicole would have thought she'd have tagged along with some other dim-witted freaks who wouldn't have the know-how to realise just how ruthless you had to be in this game. But no, Jasmine had somehow got this far, and managed to have one of the most dangerous players at her mercy.

_No matter…I was getting a little bored after all. You've gone up in my estimations, Jasmine, but it ends here for you, I'm afraid._

"Are you going to kill me, Jasmine?" Nicole sneered, "Really, are you? Because if you are, you should probably pull the trigger right now. I don't care; I'll be dead. But no…you want answers don't you?" Nicole saw Jasmine's eyes widen fearfully and she gulped conspicuously.

"Nicole…why did you kill Daniel? I saw you, but I didn't understand why…" She sounded close to tears. "He…he wouldn't have hurt you, you know. He was just…hiding from you, I saw! But I…I know other people are playing the game now, so…is that why you did it? Because you were scared?"

"'_Scared'?" _Nicole retorted, "You think I did it because I was scared? I wasn't scared. I'm still not scared. I'm not scared of you, or anyone else! You know why, Jasmine? Because I know you won't hurt me. I just _know _it!" She laughed gleefully, as though she was privy to some secret, "You won't kill me, and not because you don't know how to use that thing, but because I know you can't bring yourself to do it. You're too soft, you're too _fucking _weak! You're a good per-" Nicole's speech came to an abrupt halt, before she dismissed her mistake, "Yes, I killed Daniel. I did it because I have to live. And I didn't enjoy it if that's what you think!" she added as an afterthought.

Jasmine stood looking at Nicole, completely aghast. "You're _admitting _it? I didn't…I thought…" her voice trailed off, but she continued to hold the lupara, and steadily enough so that Nicole couldn't make a grab for it, much to her annoyance. Her irritation turned to anger when Jasmine didn't continue speaking and just stood there as though struck dumb.

"Look Jasmine," Nicole ground her teeth in frustration, "If you're not going to shoot me then at least _say_ something. Though I guess it's not every day you get to have a conversation with a _murderer_, now, is it?"

"How can you say that?" Jasmine shrieked, tears springing into her eyes, her voice constrained and painful to hear. Her face has gone all red and crumpled up, "How can you just call yourself a murderer and feel nothing? At least Peter was crazy and disturbed..."

_She's doing it again. Can't this girl finish a complete sentence? Why does she always hold back?_

"Peter?" Nicole asked curiously, "Did you see him kill anyone?"

Jasmine bowed her head as she began to sob, but as Nicole slowly raised her arm in an attempted strike, she leapt back and regained her control. "Don't do that! You're underestimating me, aren't you?" She started breathing heavily, "Not that I could expect anything else…I let Peter walk right up to me with a gun and I didn't even notice. And now…now that he has the tracker..."

"What tracker?" Nicole demanded, "What are you talking about? And if he had a gun and _is _playing the game, why didn't he kill you? You're not making any sense. Tell me!"

"The tracker was my weapon," Jasmine explained, "That's how I found you the first time. I was close to joining up with some people before Peter found me and held me at gunpoint." Her eyes widened in fear as she recalled the memory, "He said he'd kill me if I didn't give it to him. It's just like a device which lets me see everyone's position on the island. I was safe when I had it. But now loads of people are in terrible danger from Peter…and it's partly my fault."

Nicole sneered, "You said it was an accident, right? How's it your fault if you didn't even mean it? Anyway," she said exasperatedly, as Jasmine dissolved into a pool of tears, "I'm not going to stand around here for much longer. If you don't give the gun to me, then I'm just going to walk away. I'm tired of this now." She turned her back on Jasmine, not afraid even for one moment that she was so exposed. As she began to walk away, she waited for the sound…

"Stop!" Jasmine shouted, "Stop right there or I swear I'll do it! I'm not going to let you get away to kill more people, like I did with Peter! Wait here!"

Nicole tried to ignore her, instead focusing her thoughts on her other weapons to distract from the idle threats, but internally she still burned with rage.

_I've still got the grenades, the cutlass, the arrows and my mallet. It'll be a bastard having to get another gun, though. I hadn't even used that one yet! Stupid bitch…not that she's going to do anything with-_

BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG…BANG

The noises came from right behind her, all in rapid succession; save for the last one At the noise, Nicole jumped a foot into the air, her heart in her mouth and having barely had time to draw breath. As the sounds rang in her ears, she grabbed at the nearest tree trunk to stop herself falling over.

_I'm dead. I'm just about to die._

But she didn't. And so, a few seconds later she turned around to see what on earth had happened. Six shots had been fired, and none of them had hit her. Was Jasmine such a lousy aim? Nicole hadn't even thought that she knew how to fire the shotgun. Nicole stared into the darkness, expecting to see Jasmine's shadowy figure looking back at her, but the other girl was nowhere in sight. Her heartbeat slowing down, Nicole called out to her.

"Jasmine?" She called warily, and looked around slowly, worried that she was being played for a fool, and that Jasmine was going to jump out and frighten her as some kind of insane yet well-deserved prank. "Jasmine, where are- oh, my God…"

Jasmine hadn't made a clean kill of herself. In the films, when a person got shot, they always seemed to die right away, and Jasmine hadn't reckoned that shooting oneself with a sawn-off shotgun would be so physically difficult. She'd meant to shoot herself in the heart, not wanting her parents to find their only child's body with half her head missing.

_Oh, mam…dad…I'm so sorry I couldn't stick it out for longer…I was such a coward, wasn't I?_

Her hand had slipped over her chest slightly, so she'd ended up putting the bullet across the side of her lower ribcage. It was so, so painful, and she could feel all her blood pouring down her side as she lay on the forest floor, having a perfect view of the starry sky for the first time in a _long _time. She didn't scream, but she moaned involuntarily as the blond girl she hadn't been able to kill came walking up to take a good look at this wretched, wretched creature coming close to the end of her life. How humiliating.

"It…it would have been so…easy if I'd just killed you…" Jasmine said in an agonized tone as Nicole bent down alongside her. "But… no bullets in the gun now, Nicole…got rid of them all, you're not…not hurting anyone with it…"

Nicole sighed nonchalantly, as though passing the time of day, "I guess not," she replied, pulling a streak of blonde hair behind her ear and staring right into Jasmine's eyes. For a moment, she almost looked upset. "I'll find another, though, don't you worry yourself about that. Think of something nice to say…Oh, Jasmine, what have you done to yourself? Why?" She shook her head in dismay, "I told you I was killing people, yet you still let me go. It's such a shame; a lot of people could die now."

"I…didn't want to kill you…because then I'd be like you…" Jasmine claimed, which wasn't far from the truth. In fact it _was_ the truth, sort of. Jasmine couldn't kill a living person, especially not by shooting them in the back when they were defenceless.

Nicole grinned, "That old chestnut? Wrong, wrong, wrong..."

"Hey!" Jasmine snapped sharply, which caused her more pain, "It's not wrong…but...there's something else I want to say." Jasmine had never imagined speaking her last words to Nicole Nicholson of all people, but she supposed that she'd have no choice; she wouldn't get a second chance at this. She clung on to the small hope that, if Nicole won the game, she'd do as she was about to ask her.

_I feel a little dizzy…I'd better hurry up…and this is a little frightening…_

She spoke quickly, pausing briefly for heavy breaths. "Tell my parents that…I was always happy…at school. They thought that I…but I liked our class, you know?"

Nicole, who seemed to have been eagerly anticipating Jasmine's last words, did not seem to be disappointed. "That's very sweet, Jasmine…very poignant. I- here's a secret you'll take to the grave, and I'm not making any jokes here- I always liked that innocence about you. I thought it was charming, in this day and age. I'm glad you didn't make me kill you; it would have felt like murdering a child. Anyway...I'll leave you in peace."

Jasmine felt her life slipping away as Nicole disappeared from view, and she closed her eyes, waiting and preying for her end to come quickly, the pain having spread to her entire body and her vision blurred. She found herself wondering if she'd done the right thing. No, of course she had. Better to go now, than witness more and more misery until she lost it completely. She felt sad that she'd asked Nicole to pass on her message, because she now had pinned a certain amount of reliance on her, and she hated the thought of that. It was funny, though, how the compliment of a serial killer rang so deep.

* * *

**20:14: Surviving Contestants: 21**


	24. Deception

**January 16****th**** 20:14**

Maxine McKenzie and Dr. William Brown sat in William's Ford Focus, gazing out at the ocean, listening to the radio station which broadcasted the updates to Survivor, though there had not been any news since the 6PM announcement. The car park was deserted, and outside it was now pitch black, but Maxine was not about to let William turn the headlights on while they waited here. Both the doctor and the P.E. teacher - or at least, ex- P.E. teacher – could see a couple of threatening ships in the distance, though they could not see the island on which Maxine McKenzie now knew in her heart her students were fighting to the death.

She had, of course, told William the truth about her identity and situation. To her immense relief, he had not locked the doors of his house while he called the police, but instead he had sat her down and started asking her about everything that had happened to her. And so she had told him. Everything from the moment he had found her and before. She'd actually found that there wasn't much to tell, really, other than she'd been travelling on a bus to what she thought had been a weekend-long school trip. In a sense, she thought darkly, that in itself hadn't changed. With no prompting, she had sat on William's sofa and spilled everything out. How the drivers had been changed; how cold the second driver had been; how she had guessed too late that anaesthetic gas had been released; how she'd got up to face the masked bus driver only to be thrown from the bus…it all came flooding back, and when she looked at William's sympathetic face, she really did feel so much better for having re-lived some of the worst moments of her life.

But she hadn't stopped talking there. Even now, she was talking about what already felt like her former life.

"Oh, that girl would say anything, _anything_ for a laugh," She was talking about Mia Selwyn, who had joked that Maxine was a paedophile for flirting with the younger assistant when they had switched coaches Maxine had smiled through her tears, "I don't know how she got away with it…it was the same with Steve Wilkinson too; he was always popular with the girls for his sense of humour. They were friends, you know. Good friends, actually."

"How good?" asked William, who could sense how much she was enjoying talking about "her" kids and decided to humour her. "Very good?"

"Oh, I don't know…no, actually. He was going out with someone else in the class at the time he…well, was taken." Maxine's face briefly turned thoughtful, "I don't know what he saw in Nicole- that's her name- to be honest. No, I shouldn't say that; Nicole's on the island too."

"Class tramp?"

"Not exactly, but she's a bully, make no mistake…" Maxine trailed off, "Well, it's not entirely her fault. I mean, she comes from the wrong side of the tracks but, yeah, she's the domineering one who leads the little girl gang. Well, the bad girl gang anyway. We have a big popular-girl group too. That was…let me think…Lucy Edmonton's territory. You remember the girls called Zoe and Rachel whose names were read off? They were in…that…"

William nodded and touched Maxine's arm, before quickly withdrawing it. "I'm so sorry…so I guess they kind who get involved in all the school events? The preppy ones? It hasn't been that long since I went to school, I know how this works," he laughed. "Always trying to get in the teacher's good books, am I right?"

Maxine smiled, "Well, you'd think so, but it was always the boys who kept trying to get me on their side. Harry Hayes…there's a boy with a mean streak. He's one of these kids who puts on that rough accent because they think they'll sound hard, you know?"

"Chavs?"

"Oh God, yeah. Not to mention the put on swagger." She dipped her head, thrust her chest forward and shuffled her shoulders, in a rather accurate imitation of Harry. "But anyway, this kid…he was putty in my hands. Got sent to me so many times with his little cronies for, I don't know, graffiti or bad language or something, and never had any backchat, snarling, nothing. 'Sorry Miss McKenzie' was all I ever heard. Now there's a gift. Anyway, as for Zoe and Rachel: polar opposites, but great friends. Rachel was the quiet one, the thoughtful one. Zoe Wakefield…well, she was a _tart_, if I'm honest. A bit of a ditz too. Oh, that sounds terrible, doesn't it? She was a real looker though. She'd have been such a beautiful woman. All red hair and pale skin…so, naturally, the guys went mad for her. Sometimes she'd have a couple on the go. Oh, I'm telling you," she shook her head disparagingly, "The tension in the class when Joshua and Ewan were at loggerheads over her? You could-"

"Hey," Up until now, William had put off cutting in, hoping she'd realise she was talking more to herself, not wanting to insult her. However, from the way she was talking, he could see that she was going to upset herself unless she stopped this.

"Yeah?" Maxine looked up, surprised at the sudden intervention, "Oh…I know I'm going on a bit, but…" she shrugged her shoulders, and her eyes welled up again, "I just can't help it."

"I know," replied William, "but now we need to concentrate on what we're going to do."

Maxine gazed out into the darkness, before catching a glimpse of a raven haired, glamorous woman in the left side mirror. She let out an involuntary gasp before realising that she was looking at herself. Before they had set out, William had driven to a supermarket to buy all the essentials. Well, if her photograph was ever going to be published, she'd need to keep undercover, wouldn't she? So she had dyed her hair, slicked it back, and put on a lot of fake tan and changed into some stylish jeans and a low-cut black blouse. She put on pearl earrings and slipped on a large red trenchcoat and bow beret, which, if positioned correctly, hid her facial injury. In truth, it wasn't the greatest of disguises, but it would do for now.

"So," Maxine broke the silence, "what do you think we should do?"

William looked uncomfortable, "What do you mean?"

"How are we going to get the kids back? I'm not planning on letting them _all_ rot on that island if I can help it." She had intended for this to sound noble and meaningful, but as soon as the words came out, she knew what William was about to say, and she knew that he was right."

"Maxine," he sighed, "I don't see how you're going to-"

"There has to be _some_ way, right? Where there's a will." She laughed, "Or a William."

"No," William said firmly. He looked at her pityingly, "There's nothing I can do to help you get those kids back. How could I? How could anyone? We've got to get realistic here. The kids are trapped on an island being heavily guarded by those ships and God knows what else. You need to think of yourself-"

"I can't think of myself!" Maxine hissed, "I have to _do_ something. I'm the one who…If I had just been a little less of a fucking idiot then everything would be alright. Nobody would be dead now."

"Do you really believe that?" William asked incredulously, "You were _not_ responsible for this, Maxine. You weren't. And even if you could have done something, do you think that it would have just stopped there? They'd have tracked you down and-"

"Then why did you bring me here?" Maxine demanded, "Why did you tell me where the game was going on if you didn't want to help me and instead suggested that I just fail my students for a second time?

"How dare you say that?" William glared at her, his temper roused, "I have done nothing but help you, ever since I found you lying on that heath. You'd be dead if it wasn't for me! I'm still putting my neck on the line for you, right now. I should have just let them come and collect you; you'd have been better off in the long run."

"What are you talking about?" Maxine said in a conflicted tone, half-ashamed at having been ungrateful but still irritated nonetheless at William. He had been the one who was harbouring her, yes, but he had been more than willing to help her with her disguise and to tell her everything he knew about the game, so what gave? "What do you mean, I'd 'be better off', anyway? You think I'd be better off dead?"

"No! I just…think that we might be jumping to conclusions. I mean, yes, you were injured by that officer, but…they might not be as hard on you as you think. You probably wouldn't be allowed to teach again, but they've got no real reason to kill you, have they?"

Maxine opened her mouth to retort, but she realised that William was right. The media hadn't broadcast any kind of information about her being missing, at least not to her knowledge. However, she couldn't possibly just go back home as though nothing had happened, could she? Besides, she had no job to go to.

_But I'm still a missing person, even if I'm not in any real trouble with the law, people will report my disappearance. _

She sighed. "The thing is, I don't matter anymore. They could easily kill me if they wanted to. It's just a question of whether they're bothered enough." She looked William squarely in the eye, "Do you really think that I'll just be able to return home as though nothing happened? I mean, really?" Maxine wouldn't even have considered doing this, but the thought has just occurred to her; she had friends and family too, not just the kids. Her own parents would probably hear about her disappearance soon enough, if not already, and she couldn't bear the thought of just leaving them never knowing what had happened to her…

"I don't know," admitted William, "but I do know that we need to give up on thinking of ideas to get your class back. I know you still want to- I can see you still looking in the direction of the island and thinking about it- but I don't think there's any way you can. I'm really sorry, Maxine."

Maxine paused for a moment. "I guess you're right," she whispered quietly. "It's not your fault. Hell, you saved my life and I'm being such a bitch."

"No, you're-"

"Yes, I am. You've got the patience of a saint. But one thing I have to ask…why were you so eager to get me in this disguise? You were just encouraging me to go back home and work things out, so what-?"

"I…I was just being stupid," William now looked quite embarrassed and his face went red. "I just got caught up in the heat of the moment. Here you were, this mysterious woman on the run from the law, and I went with instinct and helped you out. It was quite exciting, if that's not too cruel, and I suppose I've just watched too many films. My life is so _dull_. I know, I'm a doctor and I earn a good living- I'm Scottish, don't look so surprised- so I have nothing legitimate to complain about. But I'm-"

"Lonely," Maxine finished his sentence, and smiled sympathetically. "I guessed as much when I was in your house. You had a lot of foreign money on your bed in the spare room. You travelled abroad on your own, didn't you?" She neglected to mention, of course, that she had considered stealing it.

William looked embarrassed again. "It's ridiculous. You probably think I'm so selfish. But I promise that I wasn't just helping you for some really cheap thrill. I really am concerned about you. And I'm not lying when I say that I'll never, ever sell you out to the authorities, even if I can't…just walk away from my life to help you find a new one."

"No, I understand what you mean, don't worry. I'm going to have to be honest with you now, too…it's okay; I'm not going to tell you I'm actually a mad-axe murderer or anything." She laughed a little, seeing William's worried expression; after all, in fairness he was used to her being dishonest with him. "No, it's just that- it's nothing bad really- I dedicated my life to teaching," she explained, "I'm just trying to tell you that I put everything on hold for those kids, and I know what you mean when you say that you're lonely. I had to show them that I could give it my all and that teaching was what was best for me, and that came at the price of a social life."

"Yeah, maybe I just need to start getting out there more," William explained, "But I can't believe that someone like you wouldn't attract lots of friends and well, you know, male attention."

"That's very kind of you, thank you," Maxine replied, flattered despite her situation, "the truth is, I guess I just haven't found the right person yet. All my friends are telling me I need to make more of an effort, but it's hard to go out in town when all the bars and clubs are full of kids from school. Anyway," she flapped a hand, "I'm too old for that now."

"Don't be daft, how old are you?"

"Thirty-five. Shouldn't I be married by now?" she asked, only half-joking.

"Married?" William asked sceptically, "I don't know…you never struck me as being bothered by that kind of thing. Why, do you want to have children or-"

"No," replied Maxine immediately and quite sharply, "No, I don't want children. How can anyone want children when…" she pointed out to sea. "Anyway, I don't have the time for kids. And childbirth is a very painful experience. Or so I hear."

"Okay, then…" William was quite put out by how stern Maxine had just been with him, and he wondered if he'd struck a real nerve. He decided to change the subject. "Well, I-"

"Wait," Maxine put up a hand, "I need to tell you something else."

"Maxine, if it's just private and of no account-"

"Well, it doesn't make much of a difference to you, no, but the thing is…I've had encounters with the military before now. I once trained as a soldier, you know."

"Really?" William asked, obviously fascinated.

"Yeah, I first signed up and started training when I was eighteen. There was a base I went to live at only thirty miles from where I grew up, and I participated in a three month programme. This was in…let's see…1992. I was actually pretty talented, especially in lone combat and I made a lot of good friends while I was there. But…I eventually grew bored of it. I needed more satisfaction, and I realised that I wouldn't get that as a fully-fledged soldier."

"So you decided to become a teacher instead."

Maxine nodded, "but the thing was, I had to pull out of a contract I signed. Let's just say that my superiors weren't exactly pleased. What could I possibly want to be a teacher for, when I showed such promise at the academy? Well, they called it an academy, anyway. I had to forfeit any right to any military position in the future in order to leave before I could complete my training, but that seemed like a small price to pay, really. Which leaves me wondering…"

"Oh, Maxine…" William shook his head in disbelief, "I really doubt that-"

"But they have to pick the classes somehow, William." Maxine argued, "And I don't think they'd have wiped my record clean straight away. What if someone decided to check to see what kind of class I taught? They kept special notes of my progress during my teacher training. And I also think that my past with them makes it more likely that they'll return to check up on me."

"Let me guess at something else," William said, "you feel guilty because you almost joined the organisation which puts kids on islands and forces them to kill each other, am I right?"

Maxine initially dodged the question, "I need some fresh air," she replied, opening the car door and stepping out into the cold, shutting the door behind her and letting the cool air pass down into her lungs. She felt instantly better.

"Maxine," William got out of his side of the car and leaned on the roof to talk to her opposite. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you, or say it so bluntly or anything like that." He looked genuinely anxious that he had upset her, and Maxine felt a sense of warmth and affection within her.

"No, it's ok, I really did just need some fresh air," she replied, "but...I suppose that we might as well go for a walk while we're out here. I feel like I should stretch my legs." She looked across the car park and down towards the shore, where the waves came down heavily. There were no buildings in the area except for a toilet block and a payphone booth. The place was completely deserted.

"Go for a walk?" asked William in surprise, "but…it's cold."

"I like the night air. It helps me clear my head when I'm in tricky situations, a bit like this one, but usually less serious. Come on, you're wearing a coat, you wimp."

William sighed, "OK, but I don't think that a walk on the beach will help solve your problems this time, Maxine. Besides, I thought you didn't want to be seen."

"It's dark, there's nobody around, and I'm wearing a disguise. Who on earth is going to see me and think I'm anything other than a woman out for a romantic stroll with her husband?"

William looked a little red, even in the moonlight. Unsurprisingly though, he moved around the side of the car and closer to Maxine.

_Gotcha._

"Well, I guess you're right…but this isn't my idea of a place a young couple would go, especially not on a January evening." He cast a disdainful eye about his surroundings, "Alright, so do you just want to walk on the beach, or…well there isn't really anywhere else is there?"

Maxine nodded and together they walked towards the small stone steps which brought them down to the beach, a few feet below where the car was parked. The 'beach' itself was a very narrow strip of rocks and sand; there wasn't much in the way of fun to be had there on a cold winter's night, especially now that the tide was in. In silence, the two of them began walking away from the car and had covered a good distance before Maxine began to speak.

"I'm sorry about all this."

"Haven't I already told you; you don't have to keep apologising," William said gentlemanly, "I know that you-"

"No," Maxine stopped and faced William, staring directly into his eyes, "No, you don't know how much what you've done for me actually means. Nobody's ever been so kind to me, ever."

Before William could respond to her, she clasped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. After hesitating, William hugged her back, and could feel her crying heavily onto his shoulder. Her black wig brushed irritatingly against his neck, but he ignored the itchiness and let her continue.

"I can't let you be with me anymore," Maxine spoke clearly, "I don't want to have to hurt you, but I don't think you'll give me much choice, because that's how nice you are."

William let go of Maxine and said, "What are you-"

Maxine swiftly and accurately delivered a knee to William's gut, knocking all of the wind out of him. She then grabbed hold of his right arm and tucked it behind his back, her fingers on the pressure points just above his elbow and she slowly bent his wrist back, not holding back as she kicked the back of his knees, forcing him to the ground.

"Maxine!" he roared, "What the fuck are you doing? Let go of me!" He craned his neck round to look her in the face, and his own was contorted with rage and more than a little fear.

Maxine had never seen him even remotely close to this. It scared her that someone so docile and gentle could suddenly become so angry. Well, she really shouldn't have been surprised by this. "I'm so sorry, William," she said, choking back tears, "I really, really am. But you're not safe with me! I can't let you be caught up in anything, you have so much to live for, even if you don't think you do!"

"You stupid bitch!" William spat, "Don't try and tell me that. If you cared about me you wouldn't be doing what you're doing now! What the hell do you want from me? I've given you everything you could possibly want, been with you every step of the way, and now you don't trust me anymore?"

"You weren't listening to what I just said! Anyway," Maxine looked away, "You asked me what I need, and I suppose I'll spell it out to you. I don't want you to follow me back to the car, do you understand?"

"Why not? What are you going to do, wait beside it? You don't even have the keys."

"Well, actually I do. I slid them out of your inside pocket just now, but you didn't realise. I could have forced you to give them to me, but then I might have had to really hurt you if you refused, and I really didn't want to do that."

"You're just a thief!" William shouted, "I should have let you lie by the road! And by the way, I'm already in quite a lot of pain, thanks. You're training evidently wasn't wasted."

Maxine ignored him. "I'm going to make this up to you one day, William. I swear I will." A tear swam down her cheek, "If you want to report me after this then fine. I won't hold it against you, and it's like you said, I need to look out for myself from now on. You'll be just fine. This time in a few days everything will be back to normality."

"I won't have a car…" William pointed out, much more calmly now, as though he recognised defeat, "And I'll have to tell them it was stolen, won't I?" He sighed, "I hope you don't think that I'm going to forget this. I hope you come back just so that you can repay me. And you know what else?" From where Maxine was standing, he looked very shocked, as though some great epiphany had come to him. "I'm going to start taking some of my own advice. From now on, I'm going to look out for _myself,_ too, because people just screw you over."

Maxine had only once felt more ashamed of herself, but she buried the feeling deep inside, as she had the previous time. She slowly let go of William's arm, letting him sink into the sand. He did not attempt to get up or even make any other movements. She slowly began to back away in the direction of the car, watching William as he watched her in disgust. As she got far enough back to be sure that she could make it to the car and drive off without him catching up to her, she spoke a final time. "One day," she raised her voice, "Someone is going to see you and realise that there is nobody else in the world who they'd rather spend their life with, and I don't want you ever to think otherwise," she spoke quite sharply to hide her emotion, "But that person isn't me, William."

"Obviously not," William stood up, threw up his hands and tugged his coat more tightly around his body, "I deserve a lot better. I mean, I don't even know who you are!" He laughed incredulously as Maxine smiled back, though she wasn't sure William could see it. Turning away, she clambered up the steps and opened the car door, sliding into the driver's seat. Switching the headlights on, she could just about make out William forlornly making his way back up the beach.

_He'll be fine. More than fine. Absolutely, completely fine._

Maxine started the ignition and switched on the radio, reversing the car and then exiting the car park. She wasn't sure she could remember where the hell she was, but that didn't matter, she'd find her way eventually.

She had business to attend to.

**20:45**

Sebastian Hall regarded Leo Davison suspiciously. The latter was walking quite a way ahead, and Sebastian was worried that, as they were walking through the woods, Leo might try to slip away or even lead them into a danger zone. He gripped the machine gun so tightly that his fingers hurt, and wondered whether it might be a good idea for him and Anne-Marie to tell Leo that they would not be going with him any further, if Anne-Marie would agree to that (he had a feeling that she would), but then reminded himself that Leo was the only thing that he had which might lead him to find Mia. He felt a light tap on his arm.

"Don't worry," Anne-Marie whispered, "We don't have to go with him if you don't want to. Remember that since we've got the guns, there's nothing he can do to us."

_Well,_ thought Sebastian, _that settles the issue with her. She doesn't want Leo with us; I thought so earlier. _"But Anne-Marie," Sebastian whispered back, "I don't know what he might do…he's smarter than us, and he's acting weird…"

"He's _always_ acting weird," Anne-Marie pointed out, "that's the way he is all the time."

"Not like this…I think he's going to try something. He said he'd seen Mia, but he might have been lying. I mean, he jumped out on us and wasn't even scared; I think he's gone a bit…What if this is a trap?" He was aware that he'd said it in a pleading voice, as though hoping that Anne-Marie would argue with him, as she always did. She didn't disappoint.

"Will you think clearly?" she hissed. "We. Have. The. Guns. And what kind of trap were you thinking of anyway? You think he's going to have dug a hole in the ground and put leaves over it or something?"

"Nice idea," Leo remarked from upfront, startling both Anne-Marie and Sebastian, "but I don't have a spade…or the time or energy for that. And you might want to keep your voices down if you're having a private conversation. It's rude to whisper, you know. Especially when other people can hear you doing it."

"Oh…sorry." Anne-Marie mumbled. "Where are you anyway, Leo? I can't see anything in this dark." She ducked under a branch and a splashing noise came from the ground. "Urgh, my feet are soaking and freezing," she complained, before deftly stepping onto dry land, but accidentally scraping her face against another branch as she did. "Fuck!" she spat, nursing her wound and looking embarrassed. "Why is there a random puddle of water here?" she seemed to be asking the island itself rather than Sebastian or Leo. "How much further is it? I'm getting my map out. I wish we'd never left that damn house we were in at the beginning…"

"No!" hissed Leo, coming back into view, having clambered over a mound up ahead. He looked extremely irritated now. "I know where we're going, and I know what I'm doing. Don't lag behind; the forest is very dense around here, and frankly, it's not the only thing. If you keep chattering away then people are going to hear us, and people will _see _us if you turn the torch on to look at the map."

"Don't talk to her like that!" Sebastian snapped, "You're the one who keeps running off so that we can't see you, and it's hard to run with a machine gun! Anyway, can't you see that she's hurt?" He pointed at her face, highlighting a tiny scratch which Anne-Marie dabbed at lightly with her fingers.

"I'm fine," she assured him, brushing his hand away, "I just want to get on with this and get into somewhere as home."

"That's very optimistic," Leo noted, his eyes widening in surprise, "But then, I suppose you have to be, don't you?" He stood still for a moment, saying nothing more, and then turned around again. "I think we should be at the houses on the western coast in a few minutes. Let's not dawdle any more than we have to." He navigated his way through a patch of bushes, more slowly this time, and Anne-Marie and Sebastian continued behind in silence.

Sebastian wondered again about Leo. The last thing he had said to Anne-Marie had been a little patronising, but his tone had softened considerably. He exchanged glances with Anne-Marie, who was again walking by his side, and she smiled at him without saying anything, which surprised him, as she'd usually give a raised eyebrow which indicated _What is it now? _or _Is it important?_ But then, he had quickly jumped to her defence when Leo had insulted her, so maybe that was the reason.

"Are you both okay back there?" Leo's voice came from a couple of trees up front, and sure enough, there was now a hint of concern in his words. "I think I can see the point where the path reaches the end of the woods…we should start keeping even more alert; there's less cover of darkness up ahead. The stars are bright…" he said mistily, "and obviously, there are some more streetlights and fewer trees. I was thinking…" his head bobbed into view from behind a tree trunk, and he twirled a few pine needles between his fingers, quite innocuously, "You see that building over there?" He pointed in the direction they were heading, at an area in between the trees which was difficult to see in detail, but Sebastian supposed there was something there that could, if he squinted, be made of stone.

"Yeah," he replied to Leo, "I think I can see it…why? Is that the building you saw Mia in?" he asked hopefully.

Leo shook his head, "No, it's just that it's the first house in the little cluster this side of the island. I thought that maybe if- oh!"

Leo's sentence was cut short, his chain of thought interrupted by the very sudden appearance of a bright light, shining through the trees and coming from the opposite direction from where Leo had been pointing, the area from which they had just come. Anne-Marie and Sebastian also gasped and remained absolutely silent, with bated breath. Leo made the tiniest motion with his hands, pointing towards the ground. Making as little sound as possible, the three students bent their knees and very slowly began to crouch before resting their hands on the cold earth to steady themselves. Anne-Marie and Sebastian looked at one another, nodded, and raised their weapons in the direction of the flickering, eerie glow.

It had to be someone with a torch. Rationally, that was the only possibility. Some stupid, messed up member of their class had thought it would be a good idea to trek through the woods in darkness with a lantern to guide their way in the darkness. Sebastian felt a cold chill run through his body as the light danced in front of them, only a little too far away for whoever was holding the torch to see them. Even if the light was close enough, would they instantly be made out with all these bushes and trees blocking the light's beam? He sincerely hoped not, as beads of sweat formed on his neck and forehead.

But why was he so scared? He and Anne-Marie had the guns _and_ the element of surprise. If they wanted to, they could finish this intruder off easily. Maybe that _was_ why he was scared. There was a very real possibility that the time had come to kill another of their classmates. Well, the fact that this light was moving through the woods with no visible person attached to it was also very disconcerting, but Sebastian suspected that, yes, he and Anne-Marie had stumbled across another 'Violet'.

At this point, Sebastian had his machine gun trained on the torchlight, waiting for something to happen, which inevitably it did. The light was coming closer, and he could hear the sounds of a person making their way through the woodland; leaves rustling, twigs snapping underfoot. He started when he felt a hand touch his right shoulder, and looked to see what Anne-Marie was doing. She knelt, quite steadily, with her gun at the ready just like Sebastian, but she didn't seem to have noticed that she was touching him until she became aware of him looking at her. Quickly, she removed her hand and placed it instead on the revolver.

"H-hey…?" A voice called out from the darkness, sending a sudden shockwave of surprise through Sebastian's body. Anne-Marie's hand returned to his shoulder, squeezing it tightly. "I-is s-someone there? Did something just m-move? I…I need some help. Please…?"

The voice was oddly familiar, but Sebastian could swear he had never heard it in school before. A sudden, horrific, thought occurred to him. What if this wasn't a classmate, but some kid who'd been left behind when the island had been evacuated? He was about to stand up and reveal himself, before the boy quite a way to his right beat him too it.

In his moment of panic, Sebastian had quite forgotten that Leo Davison was with them. "I'm here," Leo announced boldly, "It's ok, Aidan, it's just me, nobody else." Leo leapt to his feet and stood with his arms up, his carving knife in hand, as the figure who must be Aidan White gave a startled exclamation of shock and frantically waved about his torch before the light landed on Leo, who squinted in the sudden brightness. "What are you doing, you idiot?" Leo hissed, "Why have you got the-" he stopped short as Aidan came into view and saw the look on his face.

He looked ghastly. This wasn't just the expression of a competitor in this game; this was the expression of someone very, very sick. Sebastian gazed in fright at Aidan's sunken eyes, awash with tears and his face twitching in fear. Aidan had always been thin, but now he was so pale and gaunt that he looked completely skeletal, the black rings under his eyes thick and large. He was shaking, and it was obvious it wasn't just from the cold. As he quickly walked over to Leo, who shrank back slightly, Sebastian noticed a gun in his hand, and immediately went to aim the gun at Aidan, but was suddenly prevented from doing so.

"I'm _on my own_, Aidan," Leo said, so sharply that Sebastian and Anne-Marie could not miss the obvious order to keep quiet. Anne-Marie turned her head and raised an eyebrow and shook her head slowly at Sebastian, clearly confused. Nonetheless, they both did as Leo presumably wanted them to and kept down, having not been seen by Aidan, who continued to move forward, looking very hesitant in spite of having a superior weapon to Leo.

"I-I feel awful, Leo…" he whispered weakly, turning off his torch as he stood close enough to Leo to easily see him. "I don't k-know what to do. I think I'm g-going to d-die if I d-don't…" He turned away, his eyes blinking rapidly. He tossed his head side to side, as though he could hear noises but not quite place their source. He didn't look down at the area where, behind a few not-very-concealing bushes, Anne-Marie and Sebastian were lying in wait for him to make some kind of move.

"Aidan, look at me," Leo demanded, "come over here. I'm not going to hurt you…unless you try to hurt me. Do you understand? All I have is this carving knife." He spoke so authoritatively that Aidan could only wordlessly comply, trudging nervously over to Leo's side.

"I just…n-need your help…anybody's help…"

"Are you on drugs?"

Aidan stood shaking in silence, evidently taken aback by the question, but nodded. "I-I was. I-I'm n-not…n-not…there's nothing on the island! I d-didn't bring anything…"

Leo sighed. "That's the problem. You know that, right? You must be in deep to be so badly affected by one day away from-"

"I-It's the game too! I was, I mean, I _am _scared…"

"Yeah well," Leo muttered darkly, "So am I, but at least I didn't do heroin or whatever…so you have only yourself to blame for that."

Aidan blinked and then burst into tears. "D'you think I don't know that?" he shouted angrily, "I n-never meant for this to h-happen! I didn't k-know it was this bad! Inside…everything's c-closing in on me! I can h-hear things that aren't real! Please, I just…need you to…to…"

"I can't just tell you everything's fine when it's not!" Leo hit back with a great deal of fury and not much kindness in his voice. "If you wanted someone sympathetic then I am not the person for you. I have other things to worry about than drug-addicted worthless scum!" He said this with such cruelty that even Sebastian felt his own heart tense a little, as though physically wounded. Looking over at Leo, he could see that he was not planning on taking what he'd said back, which only made it worse.

Aidan made no verbal response, but breathed heavily for a few moments. He looked as though something had been said which had caused him to have an epiphany, like he'd realised something important. He looked for a moment directly into Leo's eyes, his own wide and, from Sebastian's point of view, impossible not to feel even the slightest bit sorry for. Aidan seemed to be waiting for something in the way of an apology.

"What?" Leo asked, "What do you want from me? I have nothing to give you."

Aidan's face contorted in annoyance. "O-open your bag. I-I want to make sure of that." He gestured towards Leo's rucksack.

"And if I don't?" Leo asked, challenging him.

"Just do it." It was at this moment that Aidan seemed to remember that he was carrying a firearm and Leo wasn't. He raised his gun, ever so slightly, and Sebastian instinctively recognised this as his moment to intervene, as did Anne-Marie. The two of them screamed "Stop!" simultaneously as they burst through the branches, their guns at the ready, each pointed directly at Aidan.

The tall, skinny, 'drug-addicted worthless scum', screamed in alarm, spinning around and facing Anne-Marie and Sebastian, who had only been feet away. He was so taken by surprise- and his cocaine-deprived body so wound up- that he actually fell to the ground and scurried back on his behind, unable to raise his gun with two others being waved in his face. As he remained still, staring up at them, all four people on the scene remained quiet for a moment. Sebastian didn't know what to do. His heart stopped racing quite so quickly when he turned to Anne-Marie.

"Are you ok?" he asked her.

"I'm fine," she replied, for the second time in only a few minutes, which now felt like hours ago, "It's you I'm worried about," she addressed Aidan, who merely looked up at her over the barrel of her revolver, more pained than afraid. "You look like death," she observed bluntly, but worried all the same.

Aidan laughed loudly, the disconcerting sound marred somewhat between sobs. Then his eyes flickered from Anne-Marie to Leo to Sebastian as though weighing up some unapparent options. Finally, his eyes merely widened pleadingly. "So kill me," he suggested, "please…I don't want to live a-anymore. I-It's alright; I don't mind." He closed his eyes, seeming to genuinely believe that Anne-Marie might do it. Of course, she only looked over at Sebastian in bewilderment, and was about to tell Aidan to stop being so fucking silly when a voice sounded that came, as always, from nowhere in particular.

"_Don't do it, Anne-Marie!" _the loathsome Miss Rothman's mangled voice commanded over the loudspeaker, which made Anne-Marie in particular jolt at the sound of her name, _"If you do, we'll activate the collar! There are only half of you left, so that would be a shame! Now then, to all the kids out there; it's time to get creative! Here are some instructions for you…get ready for a class meeting!"_

**21:00: Surviving Contestants: 21**


End file.
